Things Better Left Unvisited
by Spider Milkshake
Summary: There are things in the Redwallverse that sorely need addressing... Things of a nature unfit for the ears of Dibbuns, but they're probably sitting on the Dormitory steps right now, listening in and giggling. Read if you dare.
1. Down the Hall and On the Right?

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

* * *

In the Abbey of Redwall hundreds of peace-loving creatures live in harmony, helping one another and being entirely self-sufficient. They have many feasts each year, with all manner of scrumptious-sounding but probably quite unhealthy vegetarian (by the loosest definition possible, since they slaughter watershrimp by the thousands and are known to take a liking to grayling) foods. There is a room for nearly every peaceable and practical purpose: Dormitories, cellars, an Abbey school, a gatehouse, kitchens, pantries, a belltower, a Great Hall, a Cavern Hole for story-telling, a dusty attic, even hidden tunnels and ancient tombs. Yet one mystery remains:

All those beasts. All those feasts. Never one mention, not even a passing mention, of one very special room which all civilized creatures hold dear.

Where's the damned lavatory?

Let's say it doesn't exist. Redwallers are far too uppity to expose themselves to the filth of ancient times. Therein lies a problem. Redwall Abbey has been besieged at least one dozen times not counting the attempts that wouldn't have worked unless the foebeast had dynamite and cybernetic suits to aid them. During a siege it is very difficult to leave said besieged dwelling, not to mention will the beast who tries this likely be killed as a scout or captured for leverage. If there be no loo, where then do they poo? Tasteless, I know, but it begs the question from my sewer of a brain.

Hang on, mates... I think I've just discovered the way to take over Redwall once and for all! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHA!

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionables.


	2. ChkChk!

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

The ability of woodlanders to easily curbstomp the vermin foe has been demonstrated again and again (and again and again and again and again...) in each and every book in the series. This is great if you hate the main bad guy and would like to see him get killed in some really horrible way, but does it make sense?

Well, here's a little ditty about armor and weapons. I'm kidding, it's not a song and it doesn't even rhyme. In Redwall the "goodbeast" forces have been openly stated to prefer arrows and javelins and various other pointy weapons made by simply fire-hardening the sharpened tips. Do you see the problem yet? You will.

Well, the "vermin" don't do this unless they're poor as dirt. They put flint, or iron, or steel heads on their arrows, making them real freaking arrows and not just the sharp little twigs I used to shoot from a fake bow made of a maple branch when I was twelve.

...Oooookay, that was off-topic.

Back to the show:

The second part of this weapon junkie talk is the armor junkie talk. How many of the woodlander characters have been described wearing armor? Good armor? Aside from Martin the Warrior and the majority of the Badger Lords the answer is almost NONE. And the mustelid and such? Whole armies of them have chainmail, their Warlords have chestpieces and gauntlets and helms of all metals. That's right, metals. Guess who doesn't put metals strong enough to pierce that kind of armor on their arrows? Guess who doesn't wear armor 90% of the time?

WHY DO THOSE DANGED SQUIRRELS KEEP PUNTING RATS IN STEEL SUITS LEFT AND RIGHT WITH FLIMSY TIPLESS ARROWS?

Want more funny? Here's some of the most iconic scenes in various books rewritten with this set of wierd coincidences in mind, and with an appreciation of Adventure Time:

* * *

*Martin Kills Badrang the Tyrant*

The Tyrant was surely screwed. The brave daring wonderful incredibly violent mouse warrior had wrenched his father's mighty (also old and very much used) sword so that it was hovering just an INCH FROM THE STOAT'S RAPIDLY BEATING HEART.

"EEEEK!" Badrang squealed like a little girl, "DON'T KEEEEEEEELL MEEEEEE!"

Chnk! ...Chnk, Chnk, Chnk! CHNK!

The chnk-y noise was that of the mouse's wondrous (and at this point un-mythril) sword dinking off of Badrang's aforementioned shiny new breastplate. The evil stoat grinned and made a smug gesture with his paw.

"Heh. Armor," he pointed out, "Chk-chk!"

* * *

*Lady Amber's Squirrels Fighting the Troops At Kotir*

Huge volleys of arrows, none of which actually had anything resembling an arrowhead, hissed by in a way that surely sounded lethal. But when Lady Amber looked up she was shocked (somewhat racistly at that-_-_seriously, why are woodlanders so amazed when vermin are competent?!) that none of the ferrets or weasel had died. Well, except that one flirting with his childhood sweetheart on the end who forgot to raise his shield, but screw that, everyone knows vermin have hearts of raw sewage and don't love anything but plunder.

The line of musteline creatures all made a smug gesture as they picked splintered bits of shattered pathetic wooden arrow from their FREAKING FULL-BODY CHAINMAIL TUNICS. In unison they taunted:

"Armor! Chk-chk!"

* * *

Well, no wonder the badgers seem so invincible.

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	3. You Fail Biology Forever

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

Now, if you're the sort of person who thinks armadillos are reptiles regardless of all that "they're warm-blooded and have fur" nonsense and has no idea how closely related a Tyrannosaurus is to a common turkey, you WILL be forgiven by me for not being a bit confused by the unusual and often downright wrong anatomy and biology and physiology displayed by the creatures in the Redwallverse. But if you are purposefully writing a series of books aimed (appropriately or not) at impressionable kids it's pretty damn important to at least get some of the basics right.

Like not forgetting that "amphibian" is a thing.

There's so many it's almost not funny. Here's a happy fun selection of generic examples of things that happen in Redwall which would either be impossible or would brand the poor creatures as deformed mutants:

* * *

*Hare and Rabbits-_-_Ought To Be Cacophages*

The bally mob of hares, who were previously scoffing the jolly old feast, doncha know, leave off for a moment and squat, making a veritable hail of little pellets the likes of which the shocked Abbeybeasts have never seen.

Father Abbot's about to chide them for being so crass and not going to the non-existent lavatory first when the hares grin cheekily and immediately begin eating something other than blackberry pudding.

Mass chaos ensues as the maddened Abbeyfolk loose their heads at the sight and proceed to begin murdering each other and torching the Abbey.

* * *

*Shrews and Moles-_-_Powerful Relentless Predators*

The happy squirrel family hopped playfully through the woods, on the way to brunch with the moles of Moledeep. They were very glad the notoriously friendly subterranean beasts had invited them; they were so very amused by their cute little accents, their apparent genetic predisposition to be illiterate yet somehow do such complex tasks that would surly require advanced mathematics.

However, as the squirrels rounded the corner expecting a massive turnip 'n' tater 'n' beetroot pie they turned white at the sight of the cheerful moles roasting a long row of twitching earthworms and dead lizards over a roaring fire. They fainted.

* * *

*Snakes Are Not Magic*

The big burly otter tramped through the brush, but stopped suddenly when he heard a hiss in the shrubs ahead of him. Freezing, he reached out and pushed the foliage away, revealing an adder coiled up on a rock staring at him with wide slitted eyes.

"Oh crap!" he thought fearfully, "an ADDER! It must be the physical incarnation of evil, and trying to hypnotize me!"

The otter stared at the snake. The snake stared at the otter. Finally the adder spoke, revealing by voice that it was a young female.

"Ummm... aren't you going to do anything?"

"Wha-what?"

"Like... attack me? That's what you were doing, right? That's kinda why I coiled up in self-defense like this?"

"Uh, y' mean I'm not...Wait, that's what it is? I thought it were you slimy snakes gettin' ready to hypnotize an' bite some pore goodbeast."

"Ummm...No. You're, like, twice my size. And snakes can't hypnotize things. That's birds freezing when they see us."

"Oh, alrighty. Well, I'm gonna avoid the trend in these books of mercilessly slaughtering you even though you're just defendin' yoreself an' I stumbled on you. See ye later!"

* * *

*The Toads...Just...The Toads...*

A toad living in the dunes awoke one day and felt something was off. Going to a polished brass mirror, he looked up expecting himself to have, uh, anatomy resembling a toad's.

"WHAT THE HELL?! MY FACE! MY FEET! WHAT IS WRONG WITH MEEEEEEEEEEE?! WHY AM I ALL SLIMY AND GREEEEEEN?! WHY DO I HAVE CLAWS?! WHY DO I HAVE GILLS!? AND HOW'D I GET SO DAMN FAT?! I WAS ALMOST PURE MUSCLE YESTERDAY!"

He looks over and sees a shrew in a cage, presumably being fattened up.

"What the hell? Why're you in here?! Toads eat bugs, everyone knows that. Oh, sure, maybe a mouse or two, but not kept in a slave pen for weeks. That's humans!"

* * *

*Eels Aren't Snakes. They Are Freaking Fish*

The mighty eel reared its suddenly ugly head out of the water, except that it didn't because they aren't capable of doing that.

Okay... So it slithered its way out of the swampy water, doing untold carnage on the nearby camp for hours and hours regardless of the fact that it can't breathe outside of water!

Well, er, okay, it died about twenty minutes after leaving the water, writhing around pathetically for a bit as it realized that its gills were drying out. It died with a snakey hiss... right?

Nope. No it didn't. Eels aren't snakes. EELS DON'T EVEN HAVE VOCAL CORDS FOR HISSING.

* * *

*Birds Don't Have Superpowers Just Because They Fly*

A large gathering of birds have come together, for some reason. There's an osprey, a cormorant, a gannet, a snow goose, a robin and a little owl Abbeydweller.

First off, the cormorant is humongous compared to the osprey, but for some reason is whining and cowering in a corner about how the osprey is going to eat him. The osprey gives the cormorant a weird look and takes off, soaring over a lake full of delicious pike. He dives for one, latching onto the big fish's back and lifting it clear of the wave-_-_oh, nevermind, he was dragged into the water by the sheer weight of the pike, which the idiot should have known he would not be able to lift.

Then the pike of the lake proceed to-_-_oh, nevermind, pike don't do that. Piranhas don't even do that. It's a SHAAAAAAAAAAM!

The snow goose and gannet get into a fight, for some reason. Unlike in the book where this actually happens, the snow goose wins easily because snow geese are freaking huge compared to skinny like gannets and have about 22 lbs on the seabirds easily. That's a lot for a bird considering a gannet only weighs 12 lbs. The snow goose is a 600-lb sumo wrestler about to crush the gannet, which is a tall skinny guy who only weighs 200 by the virtue of his long dangly limbs.

All the while the robin snacks on candied chestnuts, seemingly not realizing that his species is one of pure insectivores. He gets terribly ill from a life of an inappropriately vegan diet and keels over dead of protein deficiency.

Two paces away the little owl from the Abbey smugly looks on until he too realizes that he ought to be eating only animal matter instead of lettuce and kale. The owl keels over dead of protein deficiency. The osprey, having not been torn apart by pike that don't do that, emerges from the lake sopping wet and looks on the scene.

"Man, we've really been screwed with, haven't we?"

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	4. Fantastic, Completely Justified Racism

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

At this point, I come to the racism.

It had to happen eventually, you know. Redwall is chock-a-block full of racism, to poorly use Australian slang. This is not bad in itself; it would be weird in a book based in the American South in the 1800s to not have a bunch of racists in it-_-_it's an in-universe apparatus. Er... it may have been more acceptable for the bigotry, and the very nature of telling your enemies from your allies by physical features, to be something that is more or less denounced by the author. There's nothing wrong with a suspiciously Anglo mouse and suspiciously patriotic English hare spotting some suspiciously non-Anglo ferrets and assuming the mustelines are up to no good because they're "villainous vermin", and then proceed to murder the heck out of the ferrets... UNLESS the author makes it so that the racists are always right in their prejudice.

It's made even worse when you considered the illustrious Redwall creator's, um... personal tendencies. Brian Jacques, bless his heart (can't complain now-_-_I invoked the southern charm that allows you to say anything you want about a person without getting attacked), was a raging British Imperialist and a notorious xenophobe. I won't even go into this too much, as it may tarnish ole Brian's reputation, but it is said the reason he never pronounced his obviously-French surname, "JACQUES", in any way other than "JAKES" (otherwise known as "wrong") was that he really, really, really, REALLY HATED ANY AND ALL FOREIGNERS.

Especially the French. Does it surprise anyone here that toads (French Frogs) are one of the most reviled and evilly-represented species in the series?

Back in the world of Redwall, more racist stuff was going on.

* * *

*Mellus and the Two Sea Rats, Blaggut and Slipp*

Badgermother Mellus (or actually any of the series' badgers; they're all equally racist) had been doing her Abbey duties all day. Every once in a while she saw those two icky rats they'd let into the peaceful goody-goody place doing other Redwally things. They had said they were a cook and a carpenter, but rats couldn't be cooks or carpenters! Every badger worth its salt knew that rat=sea rat, a.k.a. pirate scum that deserves to die.

Unfortunately for the bigoted badgermum, she wasn't allowed to snap the scrawny relatively helpless necks of the Abbey's guests. Lynching had been outlawed in the Summer of the Stoat Uprising (Did anyone else catch that line by Meldrum the Magnificent earlier on? Did it make a little bit of your mustelid-loving soul die inside?), so no fun happy kill time for Mellus.

However, she was allowed to be insufferably mean to them for no other reason than they had longer noses and thicker tails than mice (Anyone who knows about black stereotypes just left the room in a state of shock).

"Hiya, stripedog! Ya seen my pals the innocent liddle dibbuns?" Blaggut asked cheerfully. _RAT MUST DIE, RAT MUST DIE_, Mellus's inner dialogue said.

"Shut up, rat! Those babes are in bed and you can't come near 'em!" She growled in a completely unjustified rage, "Don't call me 'stripedog'! Only other badgers can call badgers that!"

"Okay, er... Mellus," Blaggut said, confused. Slipp grumbled off the the side.

"Hmm, then 'ow come she kin call us 'vermin' instead o' 'rat'?"

* * *

The next day, before breakfast, Mellus decided to be spiteful with her equally racist friend Tarquin the hare (no surprise he's named after a tyrant...). They randomly grabbed Slipp out of bed and forced him to cook for the Abbeybeasts even though he was at the very least an Abbey guest and had never volunteered to stay permanently. If they believed his story they _should_ have believed also that he was traumatized by a shipwreck that left all his companions but Blaggut dead.

How very like a kind Abbey-dweller.

Of course, Slipp's not actually a cook, but she didn't have to rub it in like that either. Because of her a stinky mess is created, which Slipp is actually proud of and innocently walks about trying, somewhat nicely at that, to get otherbeasts to try it too.

"Anybody want some o' this grub?" he offered cheerfully, thinking of turning his life around and becoming a cook after all.

"YOU NOT COOK, YOU JUST EVIL RAT PLANNING TO MURDER BABIES!" Mellus thundered in, grabbing Slipp up violently in a way that should've been scolded by the Abbot as an act unbefitting of a good Abbey creature, "GRAAAAAAARR! WHITE-WITH-BLACK-STRIPES POWER!"

* * *

Now, you're probably all familiar with the "goodbeast's" extreme racism against the "vermin". But are you well-versed in the everyday racism that exists between all the "goodbeast" species? Why do some of you look shocked? It's there. It's in every damn book. Not only do Redwallers openly hate members of the genuses Rattus and Mustela and Vulpes, they also engage in subtle racism against them and AMONGST THEMSELVES.

Don't believe me? Okay, here's some tidly-bits.

Remember that time in Long Patrol when the freaking Abbey Sister nonchalantly implies that dormice are all not very smart? As if this dormouse stereotype is obvious and should be common knowledge to all? And NO ONE CORRECTS HER OR TELLS HER THAT THAT'S A LITTLE HARSH?

Remember that time in EVERY BOOK when a hare got called a rabbit and took it as an insult, implying that the hares believe themselves superior to rabbits?

Remember that time in Bellmaker when one of the hares (either Hon Rosie or Meldrum, can't remember exactly) casually points out matter-of-factly that hedgehogs are "very basic beasts"? IN THE COMPANY OF A HEDGEHOG ALLY? WHO IS OBVIOUSLY OFFENDED BY IT?

I rest my freakin' case.

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	5. Cannibal Confusion

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

Quick-_-_define "cannibalism".

If you said, "Why, that would be when a member of a species eats another member of the same species, of course, Wise and Powerful Milkshake of the Spider", then you'd be right. You'd also be overestimating my phenomenal cosmic powers. I just write words, I don't grant wishes.

Weeeeeell then, let's just see what the creatures of Redwall, namely the self-purported goodbeast clade, define it as:

Oh. Oh my. Wait, then it has... Hunh?

How is it that this makes sense to anybeast in this universe? Is there a list of cannibalistic and non-cannibalistic actions somewhere in some old tomes in Redwall that everyone has to memorize? Because without that I see no real pattern that determines what they think cannibalism means.

Let me show you. I'll list all the bits I can find from the volumes that I own and you can reference that handy definition you sort of provided above to see if the woodlanders own a dictionary (Here's a hint: THEY DON'T):

* * *

It's cannibalism for a common lizard to eat a mouse or mole, but in a later volume it is not considered this when a monitor lizard wishes to eat a vole or mouse.

It's cannibalism for a fox to eat a stoat (or "ermine" as they're called).

It's cannibalism for a stoat (again, "ermine") to eat a fox.

It's cannibalism for a rat to eat a hare, but not for a variety of vermin species to eat a rabbit. But the "rabbit: was actually a hare in that one.

It's cannibalism for an otter to eat a rat. It's also really sick for an otter to rip a rat's throat out with his teeth and then chat animatedly with the victim's corpse. And it's even sicker for the otter's new companions to just quietly keep their horror and disgust at this to themselves:

* * *

*Seriously, They Just Let It Slide*

Folgrim the otter still had blood running down his face. Though normally in the woodlanders' society the otter would have gotten a serious wrist-slapping for such a dreadful crime, Trimp just shrugged.

"Er, okay. Just don't bite any more minorities to death while yore with us." she finally consented.

"Yeah," Gonff agreed, grinning in that way that told Martin the Warrior that something really scarily racist was about to pop out, "After all, it was just a rat!"

The mouse warrior slapped a paw to his face before he remembered that he was really vehemently racist too. They all joined hands in a ring, chanting:

"Yaaay! Let's go kill more random vermiiiiiiiiiiiin!"

* * *

It's cannibalism for a fox to eat a hare or a rat.

It's cannibalism for an anything to eat a wolverine, apparently.

It's cannibalism for a toad to eat a shrew, badger, or hare. Also a toad eating another toad is implied, but that's never called cannibalism. What in Hellgates is that about?

But then you have raptors, snakes, large eels, pike and other such creatures eating a huge variety of creature: Mice, shrews, otters, weasels, stoats, hedgehogs, rats, ferrets, foxes, toads, lizards, the list goes on. But none of that is cannibalism, it's just taken as a "Yeah, we know. That's an eagle. They're supposed to eat meat."

And though the goodbeasts seem to hate the idea of eating a bird, they don't consider it cannibalism if a vermin creature (or even a vole or otter at one point) eats one.

And there's one reference to a group of foxes expressing that they are fond of eating dormice, the European equivalent to a chipmunk. And nobeast cried cannibalism.

*sigh* Just stick to the REAL definition, shall we?

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	6. But Sometimes They're Not?

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

Yep. Another one on racism. It won't all fit in one blurb.

Vermin stereotyping never truly fades throughout the series, but there appear to be times in history after a great deal of time has passed since the last horde invasions where the "goodbeasts" tolerate or even accept certain members, or certain species, of the vermin clade.

This happens once or twice with rats, where mice and other woodlanders are quick to protest that Constance the incredibly racist badger could not possibly tell that certain rats are evil simply by a quick look. In fact, it is implied throughout that book that most rats are okay and generally get along with Redwall dwellers, as Matthias had seen rats before Cluny came and was shocked at how barbaric the horde of Cluny appeared in comparison to ALL OTHER RATS. THAT HE'S EVER SEEN. EVER. ALL OF 'EM.

It happens to a much lesser degree with weasel relatives, as merely acknowledgement that there may be some-to-many neutral or good members of the species. Especially if you consider that Cluny the Loony had to destroy the weasel and stoat members of his hordes' homes to convince them to join. He wiped out the ones that still resisted.

Several times foxes are regarded as almost a neutral species, neither wholly "goodbeast" or "vermin", and fox healers and travellers have even been said to visit woodlander abodes seeking honest work or Redwall Abbey when they need aid. Though it is regarded as common for woodlanders to turn the foxes away out of distrust (remind anyone of Roma Gypsies?), the Abbey appears to take them in without much prejudice being passed. _They are even listed among wandering squirrels and traveling hares as frequent friendly visitors to Redwall_.

It was all f*_*_*ed up in Mattimeo. Thank you, Chickenhound! Now we have to suffer intolerable hatred for the rest of our and our children's natural lives!

* * *

*How Everybody Got Racist Again*

Slagar, alias Lunar Stellarus, is presenting himself as a an honest ringmaster of a travelling show with all "vermin" performers. However, since they're "vermin", Constance badger demands their cart be searched TSA-style before they be allowed in the Abbey. The comment the fox makes perfectly exhibits that sometimes foxes and even mustelines have had their racism shunted aside before, that they have been proven to be morally okay before:

"I see we come in strange and untrusting times." the fox said as he bullsh*tted his way into the Abbey in that stupid costume. Constance and Basil informed him kindly that he hadn't seen "untrusting" yet.

Of course, Constance is regarded as one of the more racist of Redwall's inhabitants along with Basil Stag Hare, who are both later called off of the search after they turn up nothing suspicious at all. Also, the Abbot and Matthias aren't eager for them to try out their newest trick-_-_the cavity search.

Damn it if Slagar isn't actually a deranged slaver_-_-going in and stirring up the old prejudices again!

"I knew I shoulda just stuck to pretendin' to be a mouse..." Vitch grumbled as he finished his Sociology paper on prejudicial trends in Mossflower.

* * *

Of course, if it is wartime or any time within a few generations (probably about 50 or 60 seasons) of a vermin horde sighting even foxes and rats are subject to extreme discrimination...

Aaaaand... most of the books occur about two generations after the previous one, with the exception of Redwall and Salamandastron; those two are also the only ones in which a "goodbeast" notices the "vermin" species of another character but doesn't go all 1840s Alabama with it when it comes to judging character.

Except the badgers, they remain racist as hell in these two books, seeing it as their "solemn duty" to "warn" their fellows that vermin can never be trusted. Annoyingly, the badgers ended up being right, and anti-vermin racism was perpetuated in some formally not racist creatures...

* * *

*The New Dibbuns' Nursery Rhyme*

"Hoorah, Hooray, slay n*_*_*_*_*-mice all day!" the Dibbuns chanted happily. They would have no clue what they were saying for a few more seasons. Constance wiped a tear from her eye as she looked on proudly.

"Ahh, the innocence of youth."

Cornflower's jaw dropped as an Abbey Brother informed her that "n*_*_*_*_*-mice" alludes to rats.

* * *

Strangely, all the "good vermin" that get acknowledged all come from the books in which most are incredibly racist, and all of those "good vermin" face extraordinary discrimination.

The acknowledged "good vermin" are Blaggut the sea rat, Grubbage the sea rat, Graylunk the weasel corsair, Romsca the ferret corsair, and Crumdun the stoat corsair. Five out of tens of thousands the have lived through the ages are all that end up as good, eh?

Why is it only pirates who "redeem themselves"? Aren't pirates... the one group of people that... have NO morals..? That and sociopaths?

I would also count several others as good or at least neutral due to their misfortune of being employed by bad guys, such as Skrodd the fox, Tala the tree rat, Nightshade the fox seer, Thura the stoat, Bluefen the ferret (Swartt's wife, who did nothing even remotely evil), Lousewort the rat, Whegg the rat, Bentbrush the fox, Sickear the water rat, the entire water rat army of the Marlfoxes especially the brave soul at the end named Durrlow, Ashleg the pine marten, Scraw the rat, the six tracker rats in Salamandastron, Blitch, Splidge, Ringworm, and an unamed fox from Salamandastron, Shang Damsontounge the fox and the majority of her tribe of sixty foxes, the majority of a tribe of foxes from Redwall (from which Sela hails. It's implied that the rest of the tribe did not like her), and Groddil the fox seer.

That's an awful lot that gets missed isn't it?

And that's a lot of foxes that don't get acknowledged as good. Odd, since foxes are the one species of "vermin" that wasn't even counted as "vermin" entirely for a few of the books.

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	7. Psycho Babies

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

Did you lot notice anything off about the children in the Redwall series?

Is it the fact that it seems that they never get in trouble?

In case you didn't know, at Redwall Abbey _Dibbuns can do no wrong_.

Even when they show themselves to be capable of massacring dozens of creatures or endangering themselves and other baby creatures through their "loveable antics". No one seems disturbed in_ Mariel of Redwall _when three _toddlers_ cut some grappling ropes invading sea rats are climbing up on and then cheer and dance about at the sights and sounds of three dozen living creatures falling to their deaths-screams, gurgles, impalement on trees and smashing bones against rocks all described in vivid detail.

Those three actually get rewarded for saving the Abbey, but not a word about the wrongness of killing or how killing isn't a thing to be celebrated.

* * *

*Bad Parenting*

The three little Dibbuns were playing on the walltops in a time where hundreds of enemies would very much like to send lots of arrows into their heads. Unfortuantely for overpopulation, that doesn't happened.

The adorable innocent babies notice some grappling hooks attached to the walls. Running up to them smiling fiendinshly, they all PULL OUT BIG KNIVES THEY STOLE FROM THE KITCHENS. FOR SOME REASON.

"Heeheehee!" the ringleader giggled like a psychopath in a rat's face, "Gotta kill 'em all!"

"Aren't ye, like, three years ooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOH SH*T!"

* * *

And Dibbuns only ever get punished with going to bed early and extra baths, even if they run away into the dangerous, predator and bandit-filled woods or mercilessly prank kindly old hogwives.

And they always win every talent contest, even if they don't appear to have the merit to do so- they _always_ win.

* * *

*Really. They Always Win*

The Dibbun choir of Sister Alkanet finally finished their god-awful off-key mess of a song, causing sighs of relief to echo through the crowd. Then the annoucer, some random... I forgot, it's not even important, comes up.

"Th' winner is..." he waited too long, and got hit in the head with some fruit, "Ouch! Okay, okay, it's the Dibbuns again."

"WHAT!?" screamed an otter, who had performed actual magic as his act. His cries were ignored as the trophy was awarded to the squealing snot-nosed brats.

* * *

It's a wonder these brats aren't all spoiled rotten by the time they're teenagers_-_-the Badger Mothers are _supposedly_ strict, but all they ever do is give them extra baths, which is a blessing for the mice expected to be squeaky clean hour in hour out.

Ironically, by the parenting style I see and the knowledge I have of child psychology the majority of Redwallers _ought_ to act like the posher villains of the series-the Pure Ferrets, the Marlfoxes, Emporer Ublaz Mad Eyes, etc. Some of this spoiltness may be evidenced in Tansy's little teenage rivalry with Viola Bankvole-_-_Tansy appears to actually be a _bully_ in that situation.

They immediately make the fifteen year-old girl the Abbess after two moments of rational decsision-making.

God forbid, but _Dwopple_! A horrible, stupid, senseless and untaught name for an equally horrible, stupid, senseless and untaught mousebabe... who wanted to be like a Marlfox _immediately after their Abbey almost got sacked_ _by that regime!_

No evil goodbeasts, my tail.

...I've just found the Redwallverse Anti-Christ. It's Dwopple, everybody. Dwopple the mousebabe is the Devil. He's the son of Satan. You _do_ never see his father...

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	8. Magical Property Laws

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

Woodlanders have some seriously messed-up land-owning practices. If you're, say, a hedgehog family, you're allowed to say you own your house and the fields beside it. If you're a tribe of otters, the otters get their tribal homelands near River Moss. Generally, the bounty of the world is for all to enjoy...

...Unless that damned weasel puts 'is stinkin' paws in my cherry (or pear, in the case of _Taggerung_) trees!

Sometimes goodbeasts will extend this possessiveness over to any stranger, regardless of species, but usually it's just another big ol' wad of good, old-fashioned pulsatin' racism like usual. But there's a serious double standard here. Really really bad. And sometimes it doesn't even make any difference.

* * *

*You Can't Have It...I Can*

Trimp and her pals Martin the Warrior, Gonff, the Prince of Robbing Innocent Weasels Because He Can Get Away With It Nyah-Nyah, and some other creatures that don't really matter and aren't important to the story go on their adventure to find out what happened to Martin's vigilante father, leaving the under-construction Redwall Abbey and having wacky, racism-filled side-quests all the way.

After nearly getting killed by almost every living thing on the river they arrive at the sea.

Sholabar the fox and his companions come along, pretending to not be pirates even though they totally are.

"Hey, there girly," the fox said, sounding totally normal and not aggressive, "Hey, random squirrel kid, respect family values and yore elders. Also, don't do drugs!"

The fox, rats and ferrets all wink and do a D.A.R.E. pose. Then Trimp the bigoted pincushion decides to get all hatredy on them for no apparent reason.

"Grr, I don't like you-_-_yer a FOX!" the hogmaid whines stupidly, getting ready to beat the so-far non-criminals with a stick. Sholabar gets testy.

"Well, duh, I'm a fox. Anybeast with eyes could tell ya that," he rolls his eyes, "Just for that I'm callin' th' cops." He grins, knowing his argument is fool-proof considering the Redwallers are ALSO land-owners. "For TRESPASSING!"

"Mleh! Nobeast owns the shores an' sea!" Trimp screamed annoyingly.

One of the rats scratches his head.

"Er...don't you beasts own the land you built that Abbey on..?"

The cops arrive, arresting the goodbeasts for trespassing and misdemeanor stupidity. They later get served with papers for a civil suit, as they really don't own the land they built the Abbey on and are just squatting.

"MY INHERITANCE?! I THOUGHT IT WAS DESTROYED!" Gingevere Greeneyes exclaimed at the letter he'd just opened. Quite suddenly he and Sandingomm are rich once again, leading happy lives in Mossflower safe from racist woodlanders in their new chateau...

* * *

Her response is contrary to _what goodbeasts already do_-claim certain areas as owned by them_-_-in telling the fox that _"nobeast can own the shores and sea!". _Even though... various "goodbeasts" _have_ claimed to own sections of shore and sea before... and since...

Apparently, _"vermin" do not have the right to own property_...

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	9. Sexy Fun Time!

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

Before I get to the requests recently sent by my WONDERFUL reviewers, there is something very very important I must address.

The series about cute furry warriors killing cute furry warlords and being so adorably racist to their fellow adorable furry things is a cesspool of raunchiness and sexual innuendo.

There are some scenes which read... differently after the age of the reader ascends beyond twelve. Okay, well, in these days and times that age has probably dropped to eight or something, whatever. They sell THONGS to FIRST-GRADERS, for Pete's sake.

Don't believe me?

Observe this, a line from Long Patrol where the ferret Rinkul fantasizes about what he's going to do to the disguised Tammo and Midge when he catches them:

* * *

"I'll find somewheres nice an' quiet like, where I'll do that pair 'ard an' slow afore dawnbreak!"

* * *

...

Did he just express a desire to bumfiddle two hares to death?!

Maybe not. It's open to interpretation. Maybe Brian Jacques just didn't realize how overtly sexual that sounded? Surely he didn't do it again-_-_

* * *

"Do you see this sword? Did you know it has the power to make hare maidens happy?"

* * *

...

Okay, one OR TWO mistakes. It still could be innocent.

But what about the part in Rakkety Tam, where Doogy and the title-naming squirrel Highlander are awaiting a visit to the king's court...in a prison cell, but no matter, and there is a detailed description OF THEM BOTH PUTTING THEIR KILTS BACK ON.

Why are they sitting in a prison naked together? What's the first thing all your dirty dirty minds goes to? Something that probably made it onto this site. Under "romance". Rated MA...

Speaking of humping squirrels, why is Celandine from Martin the Warrior described as such a shameless ho? Bats her eyelashes at butterflies? Relentlessly stalks the first male squirrel that comes within ten feet of her, following him at night and commenting that "he's SOOOooooOOOO strong! Teehee!"?

Well, it wouldn't be the first time Mr. Jacques has snuck a hooker in. Though I've never read Sable Quean, I do know the meaning of the word "quean". It's not queen. Ol' Brian claimed it meant a lady of power or an unmarried woman.

Oh, it refers to a "madam" alright. Just not the kind you can introduce to your kids without scarring them for life. Redwall, for ages young and old! Kind of like other kids' stuff with adult references snuck in for the amusement of the parents reading them to the poor unwitting seven-year-old.

It's not as bad as accidentally teaching the kid that you should really watch out for creatures with dark fur and different features than you! Nighty-night Timmy!

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	10. Badgered

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

By request I now address the nature of the beast called the badger.

First, how do Redwallers and woodland-dwelling goodbeast view the badgers? Answer: Proud, noble beings-_-_protectors of the weak and, er... random lynchers of vermin! But that's okay! Vermin are all evil, remember?! Except that one, or two... or five or gee, maybe that's not right...

Anyway, the other goodbeast species tend to view badgers as if they are the living embodiments of justice and truth, veritable demi-gods among the rest of "you beasts". They are nearly always the rocks of good sense at the center of every society, and the pillars of every woodland community. If the number of places ruled by badgers is accurate you have to wonder if the entire Redwallverse is controlled by the whims of badgers.

Maybe that's why it's such a terrible violent place rife with economical and social inequality. It is well-known that the woodlanders' stripey friends have tempers like freaking volcanoes. But it's okay, they only really vent them on "villainous vermin", so it's really not that bad-_-_-_-_

* * *

*Why It IS That Bad*

Cregga Rose Eyes, once the great Badger Lord of Salamandastron and slaughterer of many beasts along racial lines until she got blinded and was forced to see the world equally for once, was trundling along, being old and bitter one day. There were Marlfoxes and water rats in the woods, so that couldn't be good. Never mind that they were saying how bad it was that the PRESENCE of a group of creatures was so bad BEFORE anything negative happened to the Abbey.

Then along came Florian, yet another fruity metrosexual thespian hare, with his acting troupe's cart. Seeing that the once-super-violent badgerlady was blind as a rock and really, REALLY OLD by this point, the hare had a moment of non-quirky selflessness and offered her a ride in he cart across the grounds, wot wot.

"YOU CALLIN' ME OLD, FOOL?!" the still-currently-super-violent badgerlady grasped the struggling hare, stuffed him humiliatingly into the cart, and kicked it as hard as her ancient foot could, sending the poor creature flying across the grounds and into a tree.

"And that's why ye never ask a badger about 'er age, weight, or political views," the Skipper explained calmly to a crowd of speechless otter cubs, "NEVER. Or she'll try t' kill ya. Her anger management course... didn't work out so well..."

* * *

It's not just the rage that makes the immaculate badgerfolk look a little less-than-perfect. It's also that "being the upholders of justice an truth" thing. Because the badgers are far from truthful. There's so many examples that I think I'll only put one good one here, but here's a hint to more: Constance is a liar. Cregga Rose Eyes is a liar. Rowanoak is a liar. See a pattern? It's almost always the females that behave a bit treacherously. Watch and learn:

* * *

*Constance Promises a Meeting With the Abbot to Sela In Regards To Buying Crucial Information From the Freakin' Volunteer Spy. She Lied.*

Sela the vixen crept through the woods after losing the two rats on her tail, very much risking the life of herself and her son, and possibly her whole tribe in this venture. If she played her cards right, she could pretend to be on Cluny's side and save Redwall from destruction, with the added bonus of her pay. Briefly she wondered why she was even helping the Redwallers since it was previously mentioned that neither her nor any of her children were ever allowed into the place that supposedly allows in all with good intentions.

She shook her head to clear it, checking to see if the plans she stole from the freaking main villain were still in her pocket. There was the stump, so she looked about and waited patiently. There was no need to doubt that the Abbot would be there; after all, goodbeasts were all good and honest, right?

"Wrong!" taunted Constance, who had just snuck up behind the fox and physically assaulted her in a rather dishonest manner.

"Eep!" eeped the poor terrified volunteer spy agent attempting to help the Abbey.

"HARHARHAR! Gotcha sucker!" Constance snarked cruelly, stealing the hell out of the plans and knocking Sela the f*** out for no reason other than she felt like beating her some minority, "See ya, traitor! Even though technically I'm the traitor!"

Before leaving, Constance decided to duel one of the rat guards of Sela, killing the hell out of him unnecessarily.

* * *

Constance later also neglects to inform the Abbot that she and the beaver secretly attempted to assassinate Cluny, but messed up and just ended up killing some other guy.

There appears to be no punishment. Does that mean all really is fair in love and war, even in a "peaceful" Abbey? Why did Jacques only feature fibbing female badgers? WASN'T THIS SERIES ABOUT BRAVERY AND ADVENTURE AT ONE POINT?!

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	11. Oi Be A Moler

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

* * *

Moles.

In real life, they're antisocial, carnivorous, subterranean, nearly blind, stubby-legged, crazy-breedin' giant shrews that can't swim and are apparently not bright enough to stay out of puddles deep enough to drown them until they're neck-deep in it.

In the Redwallverse, they're infallibly friendly, oddly vegan, nearly blind, stubby-legged, crazy-breedin' giant shrew that can't swim but always seem to get sent on sea-going adventures. And they're said to be a subterranean society, but aside from one short reference in Mossflower to the underground realm of Moledeep, they are never seen in an underground complex ever again. There's also the matter of their hard-as-hell to understand accent.

Or is it a language? The books never clarify what it is exactly. Some call it a dialect, but that is not what dialect means. And how come it changes in every book? Isn't it the same accent/language/dialect? And why don't any of the other species of animals have their own particular and hard to understand accent/language/dialect?

The otters...sort of have something, a kind of Cornish accent (Ol' Brian was said to favor the Cornwall area, known for it's sailors and longshoremen... and smugglers...). But it's not so indescribably different and, how can I say this with more clarity, DIFFICULT TO UNDERSTAND AS A POODLE WATCHING A DANDELION BE SLOWLY RUN OVER BY A TRUCK IN BELGIUM ON A BRIDGE. It's just a few more "mateys" and a few less "g"'s on the end of verbs. And then there's the accent that just sounds a bit British-y that just about anybeast can have it, goodbeast or vermin. Then there's a whole bunch of other, including Ye Olde Butcherede Englishe, which kept getting used by hedgehogs for some reason until it instead kept getting used for old foxes.

No one seems to understand the molespeech very well unless they've spoken to moles very often before. Makes you wonder what they teach in that Abbey School of theirs...

* * *

*Messin' With Moles*

Everybeast was having a grand old time, except for the mouse that was made to sit in the midst of about two dozen moles, subjected to the horrible torture of the "humm"-ing and the "urr"-ing.

"Ho urr, oi be much partial to ee strawburry curr'dial, humm."

"Oi, ee zoop be moigthy foine too."

"Yurr, Billyumm, troi ee gudd puddin' an' ee zoop t'gethurr."

"Burr, et be guid, zurr."

"Yurr, burr, oi loik et, urr humm urr."

"How'd ee mousey fellurr loik to troi ee turrrnip 'n' taturr 'n' beetroot poi?"

Suddenly the mouse snapped, leaping up onto the table and screaming like bloody murder. He stomped all the wonderful not very heart-healthy vegan food plus shrimp and cheese into pulp as he ranted and raved, terrifiying the poor Abbeydwellers with his sudden fit of insanity.

"YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAAAAAAAH! NO MORE URRRRRRING! DEATH BE TO THE MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEESSSSS!"

The next day during the trial, everybeast was left to wonder what had gotten into the youth. Until next feast time, when the same thing happened with a squirrel...

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	12. UNGODLY STINGING DEATH

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

* * *

If there's one animal in the world I'm afraid of, it's bees and hornets. They are singly efficient and lethal. They are both mindless and possessing of an ungodly level of computer-like calculation. At the same time. THEY ARE BORG. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.

Unless you are a sweet, talented mousemaid, for some reason.

It's happened in several Redwallish situations: The brave heroes stupidly ignore the line on the unnecessarily poetry-like map that clearly says "Don't go this way. You will be stung to death by bees." and go down the path that smells suspiciously like flowers and sunshine and honey. They are paying SO LITTLE ATTENTION THEY PRACTICALLY WALK RIGHT INTO THE MASSIVE BEEHIVE THAT IS INVARIABLY THERE. All seems lost for the heroes as the wasps or bees or hornets or what have you begins to swarm, sadistically stinging the innocent Redwallers (or Noonvalers) whenever they try to escape the buggity embrace.

Until... Rose (or whichever beautiful mousemaid happens to fill her role) begins to sing like a pretty little birdie, calming the bees... somehow... and freeing her friends from the horrible insects' plan of murder and torture.

But bees can't hear. Sound actually irritates the sensitive vibration-sensing hairs on the bees' bodies. This sends them into pre-programmed "attack mode", just like any other untoward or unexpected vibration would. Rose and her pals would DIE HORRIBLY.

Unless something else was afoot...

* * *

*How It Really Happened*

Rose rounded the corner to see Grumm Trencher, Martin and the hedgehog Pallum being slowly swarmed by bees, thousands of them. The three malebeasts did not dare to move, as the hivemind would then surely issue their death orders. Rose was terrified, but she knew what the old urban legends had said: If she could just use her nice voice to sing a pretty song the bees would leave, right? Music soothes the savage beast, right? Or the emotionless killing machine swarm with no morals or thoughts, only directives?

"So la ti do!" she sung stupidly, attracting some of the bees which prepared to shut her annoying mouth, "Fa fa mi so! This must work, urban legends said so!"

As she pranced about trying her best to sing a good enough song, a bottle of perfume, Eau De Hornette Hormonne, slipped out of her traveling pack and shattered, sending a seemingly colorless, odorless cloud over the entire group. All the bees turned off, their primary operating units shut down. Rose grinned stupidly.

"Oh, hooray! It worked!" Martin clapped her on the back and resisted the urge to make out with her even though he's obviously smitten.

"Right you did! No way it could've been anything else! Because we don't know what science is!"

"Hoi, hurr umm oi zurr daown oi yurr, boi okey!" Grumm gabbled unintelligibly. The others pretending they knew what he was saying as they skipped off into the sunset.

* * *

And... scene. That's how it happened.

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	13. Environmental Protection, My Tailbrush

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

* * *

There's a wide variety of settings in the Redwallverse: Woodlands, grasslands, rivers, mountains, shores, the open seas, deserts, canyons, icebergs, tropical islands, etc... And Brian Jacques did a smashing job on all of the above, especially the forest settings.

But he did a half-assed job on the swamps and marshes (blesshisheart-_-_-can't attack me now!).

Show of hands, how many of you have ever seen or seen a picture of a marsh or wetland? Seeing one in a National Geographic counts: It doesn't magically get purified by the camera or something. I KNOW there are so many myths and kooky beliefs regarding swamps. Kind of like there are a lot of myths and kooky beliefs regarding races of people. It doesn't make them right automatically just because a lot of English rubes believe it.

According to the beasts of the Redwallverse, swamps are horrid wastelands where one wrong step will get you sucked down into a world of muddy suffering from which there is NO escape. Basically, it's movie quicksand.

And you know how realistic movie quicksand is, right? Not very. Quicksand (and mud that acts like it, I presume) is really more of a wet inconvenience and a sudden jolt that you laugh about later in real life. Just... just SWIM, you stupid mice. C'mon, ferrets can float. I know. I've seen 'em do it.

* * *

*Spider's Pal's Pet Ferret-_-_Redwallized*

The ferret wandered down the path, confused and a bit put off by the strange surroundings. Minutes ago he was rooting in the armoire, looking for the nook where he had that fake neon green feather that he really liked. Now he was in some woods, and he was bigger. And he was wearing a shirt and some antiquated leggings.

"Hullo? Who's there?" he asked to the treeshade, then clapped his paws over his mouth in shock, "Holy sh*t! My English sounds like English now! Not 'Grrllblllrrrriiii-grrrlbbllrii'!"

Suddenly Captain Kirk (yes. Just... yes) the ferret spotted a pond a little ways off the path. Shrieking with delight, he bounded down the embankment and splashed about, floating like a cork on the surface.

"Wheeeee! I love bein' a ferret!"

He was joined by a trio of female rats with black and white markings, Maggie, May, and Daisy Duke (Yes, I know...). The three tussled and giggled, havin' a good ol' time without a single thought of maiming any creature unless it was a ham cube from a pack of lunch meat.

* * *

In fact, survival guide made after 1900 always tell those reading them that the surest way to survive quicksand is to... kind of try to not drown and float over to the side and pull yourself out. It's really not that hard. Mountains are far more treacherous: Rock slides, mudslides, even the possibility that the "mountain" is really a volcano. Yet mountains are just sort of there, not too dangerous but not super benign either.

Meanwhile, swamps get the pedophile treatment for landscapes. They're just... creepy, and horrible! Nobeast wants to go THERE!

And ol' Brian seems to forget that swamp is the life's blood of the planet, teeming with living things. For an animal that lives to, oh, I dunno, BE ALIVE, a swamp is the place to be. Yet Jacques skims over the description of swamp as a wet wonderland, ignores the fact that if he goes into orgasmic detail about the plants of the woods, he ought to do the same for the wetlands. But he doesn't, because swamps are evil.

* * *

*Sunflash Grows a Brain*

The badger could feel the inescapable force relentlessly pulling him down into the terrible swamp. Nope, that wasn't it. Wait for it, wait for it...

The band of newts, slow-worms (legless lizards) and magical air-breathing eels, which are all erroneously lumped into the reptile class of animals even though only one of them is a reptile, stared at him in confusion. What the heck was the stripedog doing? Sort of...floating, and splashing on the top of the deep mud...

A kestrel, which is not actually a hawk but a KESTREL, but is continually called one anyway, flew overhead, assaulting the hell out of an obviously malnourished newt and an eel and sadistically sentencing them to die at the top of a tree. The eel gasped in agony as his gills dried up, since he's a FREAKING FISH AND SHOULDN'T BE OUT OF THE WATER. The newt began to suffocate since his skin was drying out up in the humidity-less breeze, dying much more slowly and torturey. The kestrel casually shrugs as two otters show up, staring at the frantically wigging out badger, who is obviously not in danger of drowning.

"Er... 'Ey, matey, try swimmin' to th' edge," one otter suggested.

"These guys're a little..." the other otter whispered in his brother's ear, making a twirly motion with his paw. Then they decided to go on a quest with the insane creatures.

* * *

Wait... isn't the size of the characters on a human-like scale in comparison to the landscapes and trees? Where in the world does muddy swamp get so deep it can seem bottomless to a twelve-foot giant? The Amazon? Mossflower's lush and wet, but... it ain't no Amazon. It's freaking Wales. There is no lethal forty-foot deep mud in Wales or England or Scotland. SWAMP. IS. HARMLESS.

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	14. PeTA Did Scream

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

* * *

If you asked a random woodlander or resident of Castle Floret during the time of Urgan Nagru's occupation, what is the single most disturbing physical feature they might frown upon about the fox Warlord?

If you said "The...fact that he murders other creatures for no good reason and took over our homeland?" then I'm terribly sorry, but you'd be dead wrong.

It's the fact that he wears clothing made from skin. That's right. Goodbeasts are PeTA. It doesn't matter to them that a lot of the creatures that wear skin are carnivores anyway and its just a practical and resourceful use of some leftover inedible bits. The wearing of skins or bones is absolute taboo in the society of the goodbeasts. C'mon, it's absolballylutely savage an' barbaric, ol' chap.

Before I made mention of the Redwallers being sort of vegetarian. They're almost vegan, especially in the later books where Brian Jacques decided that you really don't need eggs to bake a cake and have it turn out to be, oh, I dunno, a CAKE, and they even omit fish from the elaborate feasting scenes for the most part. But the truth is...

They're not even vegetarian. Not if you follow PeTA's rules of conduct on vegan and vegetarianism. You can neither consume nor WEAR products created from killing a (non-fish) animal by their standards.

"But Spider," some reader with a doofy voice will invariably protest, prompting a hard glare from the rest of youse trying to pay attention to the lecture in Redwall-o-nomics 414, "The goodbeast species don't wear skins or furs. That's only the vermin, or the woodlanders raised by vermin. I GOTCHA NOW FOOL!"

After you lot kindly beat that idiotic man senseless, I shall explain this theory o' mine with good rational thought, as the rest of you have displayed admirably by expressing any confusion quietly and in a civil way, unlike Doofy McOutburst MacSpearfodder over yonder.

Class, do you remember what the scabbard of MARTIN THE WARRIOR'S OWN FREAKING SWORD IS MADE OF?!

* * *

*Matthias Discovers More Than a Sword*

The little mouse with the big destiny which he calmly and nonsensically took in stride earlier snuck ninja-like into the nest of that bastardly sparrow King Bull Sparra.

"Hmmm...How has this Abbey survived so long with basically one of the most evil Warlords in the book, aside from Cluny, living with an army of a thousand practically on top of our heads?" Matthias wondered to himself randomly. But no time for that! He must find the Sword of Plot Advancement! For some reason!

"Oh, yes. Finding this one sword which seems nearly impossible for any normal, non-God-like-author-favored character to get is definitely the way to win this war with this one rare group of evil rats and technically enslaved other rats and weasels that only numbers about six hundred." he went back to the topic, "Nope, sending for the Long Patrol wouldn't possibly work. Neither would using subterfuge with that fox we swindled to rally the hundred impressed ones to our side so we could assassinate Cluny for real. Only this sword, which is totally not magic or special in any way other than it isn't a big pile of rust by now, can save the day!"

Stumbling, he tripped and fell behind an overstuffed sofa, which was in a bird's nest for some reason, and came face-to-object with the sword scabbard of Martin's sword. As the young and on-alert mouse reached out to lovingly stroke the fabled item it was immediately clear that something was wrong.

And, no, it was not that the sword wasn't in the case. It was something the sheltered little beast found far worse...

"I-I-It's m-m-m-made of... SKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!"

* * *

YES. Redwallers and other goodbeasts are depicted as owning, using, and never freaking out about, items constructed wholly or partially from leather and bone. It baffles the mind in many ways: First, do they not KNOW that the belt they wear is made of the treated hides of other creatures?

Perhaps the skin, fur and skeletal garb taboo only applies when the source of the material is obvious. With leather there is no fur, with otter tailrings the bone is smoothed and no longer in the shape of a recognizable bone. Do they import leather and bone goods form some other land, blissfully unaware that they are wearing a chunk of cow skin or even something a little more similar to their own kind, like a hedgehog?

Or... is there a more sinister explanation?

Could it be possible that they know the leather is just skin...because they skinned the dead carcasses of the foebeasts' bodies piled up from all those wars outside their gates themselves?

Even worse...

Do they habitually and casually skin their own dead? You never see an open-casket funeral or any kind of memorial service where the unaltered body is visible in the entire series. You only see the part after they are six feet under already.

Maybe there's a very very good reason for that. No need to frighten the Dibbuns, eh?

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	15. Excuse Yourself, From the Racism!

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

* * *

AGAIN with the racism. Since beginning these outbursts I have noticed it like I've never noticed it before. Every time I reopen Marlfox or Salamandastron or Legend of Luke I get it full in my face, and wonder how in the world it is that there are some people in existence who have read the same words I have but forcefully assert that it does not carry the heady stink of a racist message.

According to them, if the books are fiction and the racism's between cute little birds and mammals, it does not count as racism. That's only real in REAL life. Never mind that no one ever said that a "racist undertone" cannot be applied to an allegory. Nope, characters've gotta be human, otherwise children will never see it or be influenced by it.

There was so much of a heated little storm brewing about the racism issue that, way back in the good ol' days (hint: it wasn't really that good), Brian Jacques himself was asked the tentative question about it: "Why do you make all rats evil and all mice good?"

His response?

Effectively, "N-no I didn't!"

Okay, that's not what he said word for word. This is what he actually said, using Cluny the Scourge as an example:

* * *

"He's not evil because he's a rat, he's a rat because he's evil".

* * *

Yeeeaaahhh. Kind of like my friend Hope (HI HOPPIE! *waves furiously*) isn't lazy because she's part Mexican, she's half-Mexican because she's lazy!

Sorry, Hope. I know you're not lazy. You chop wood and walk dogs like no other. It's just that Brian's floating spirit here thinks you can be born a certain way because you're destined to fulfill that stereotype. Of course! Redwall's totally not racist now. Thanks to this lovely excuse, I can get on with my life and stop writing these foolish, ridiculous, God-awful-_-_-_-_

Wait a minute.

Does that imply that you can be BORN A RAT in the Redwallverse, even though your parents were NOT RATS?! Depending on how evil or good you are pre-destined to end up as?!

Imagine if people in the real world thought like this. Ugh, nevermind, don't. It ain't pretty.

Instead, imagine THIS: Squirrels birthing rats? Otters birthing stoats? Rats birthing voles and mice? Or even something even more against nature completely, a shrew giving birth to a sealion, because that baby was DESTINED for the SEA!

* * *

*The Horror of Childbirth*

The midwife, a hedgehog maid, knelt down as the infant crowned. Several Dibbuns nearby peeking in curiously simultaneously blanched and projectile vomited into the backs of the adult beasts' backs. The beaming squirrel father patted his mate's shoulder and awaited the moment he'd see his little one's face for the first time.

"PUSH!" Everyone shouted, even though you're not supposed to do that. Everybody lit up at the sound of a little babe's cry, and the hogwife wrapped a little bundle up in a fresh towel.

She lifted its tail, causing wonderment and giggles in the Dibbuns as they cleaned their vomit-y whiskers.

"It's a boy!" she proclaimed proudly, and the congregation cheered. It stopped dead as the midwife suddenly frowned deeply.

"It's...also _a weasel..._"

The father threw his paws up in exasperation:

"Agh, again!? What is _wrong_ with us?!" he waved dismissively, "Oh well. Toss it over the wall and forget it. We'll just have to try again. Eventually we'll have a _good_ kid."

* * *

Oooooookaaaaaaay... I'm going to stop researching the Spartans now. It's done things to my brain that I can't quantify...

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	16. All Your Base Are Belong To Us

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

* * *

I imagine trying to write a story of archaic, pre-medeval style battles and adventures may be a bit of a challenge for the human born in modern times, where swords go on walls or in display cases-_-_not on belts or lodged in the still-beating hearts of your enemies.

But some things are just plain common sense.

Case in point, a la Lucky Revieweur, Guosim shrews.

For two seconds in one or two books, their fabled battle tactic was to press themselves back to back to back to back, ffoursquare, fighting off numerous enemies that had surrounded them by slashing about with their tiny little rapiers at usually armored foes. If you ignore the honest fact that an undersized rapier would be inefficient at dealing with chainmailed foes, not to mention useless against any amount of platemail, this "strategy" is very dumb.

Not only is it liable to get all four shrews killed, it doesn't even work.

Go on, get three friends. Now get a gang of bikers to cooperate and be your "enemies". Try to press all four of your backs together and stay that way (even standing still this should be difficult) for the course of the next step: I'm going to give you lot the best possible chance and give you all spathas instead of shrunken rapiers designed for something the size of a hobbit compared to you. While continuously spinning in place, keep the bikers from mauling you. Go on, try. It won't work, I assure you. I have the field test research. What with all the shifting and movement of battle, one of you WILL OVERBALANCE, FALL ON YOUR ASS, AND DOOM YOUR COMRADES.

* * *

*The Guosim Windmill Strikes Again*

"Wait, what's a windmill?" A shrew asked, having never heard of such a thing as one doesn't seem to exist in the Redwallverse. Another shrew smacked him to shut him up and keep him from breaking the fourth wall.

"Let's do it, mates!" the lead shrew grinned fearlessly, facing off with the surrounding vermin and being happy to kill something in a rather douchebaggy manner. His fellow shrew knew what to do, and assumed the position. The leader of their attackers, a big stoat, looked suddenly aghast.

"Is that wot I think it is?!" he stammered, recoiling in fear. Several weasels and rats began to shake. Not the Guosim Windmill, the scourge of creatures that tried to surround shrews, even though being completely surrounded is one of the greatest "Oh shit" moments in all of war history.

Then the shrews began their attack (preemptively, but screw it, they're the heroes)! Spinning rapidly, the four creatures pressed up against each other as the deadly whirl of blades came closer to the stoat and his creatures.

"NOOOOOO!" the vermin leader shrieked, covering his face and convinced he was about to die. There was an odd thumping and clattering sound, which caused the stoat to look up. The shrews, dizzy from spinning and unbalanced from being thrown off by their own fellows counter-balancing themselves, had tripped and fallen over hilariously in a heap, their pathetic undersized rapiers cast aside in the chaos.

The weasels and rats were too busy laughing their asses off to even follow through with their plans of capturing the shrews for ransom. Everywhere myurid rodents and skinny mustelids fell about, some driven to tears and breathless. So THIS was the great Guosim Windmill, eh?

* * *

Another point I have to make: There is never any strategy employed in hardly any of the goodbeasts or Redwallers, or even most of the Long Patrollers, battle plans. There's plenty of useful battle TACTICS, but no strategy. Strategy is the long-term planning of the method of war, not the tricks in smaller-scale scuffles that help individual soldiers survive. A good tactic would be to never hide behind the same boulder when avoiding arrows twice. A good strategy would be to employ the use of phalanx and cavalry units to drive the foe into a cornered area where they cannot defend themselves and are therefore forced to either surrender or retreat and yield a valuable asset to your side.

Most of the Redwallverse's war involve two sides finding each other wherever they may be and furiously charging at each other in a loose mob.

Most of the fighting groups in Redwall's world are too specialized in their weaponry to be of much use on a true battlefield. The shrews JUST have rapiers, slings, maybe bows, not a whisper of an axe, mace, shield, or even a FRICKIN' POLEARM variety. Otters and squirrels almost never seem to have anything on them but ranged weapons (except that one time at the veeeeeeery end of Taggerung where a "longblade" is mentioned, but I don't know what the heck that's supposed to be). How do they end up faring so well in close combat? They ought to be getting hacked to pieces by weasels and ferrets wielding halberds and shields and longswords and flails. Doubly odd when you remember the bit from the second installment, about the armor...

But the most irritating thing for me is the fact that the only groups that ever employ a phalanx, bar none THE most effective and lethal element of ancient armies' success in the history of large armies, end up being portrayed as a bumbling, hapless, undisciplined rabble that isn't even smart enough to remember that the helmet goes on the HEAD. And they always lose. Guess which groups these are yet?

Yep. Vermin groups. Kotir's army especially. They run drills every other week, and in those drills they never muss it up. Yet somehow in a real scrap their brains turn to mush and their spears, shields, and extensive phalanx training is about as useful as grape Jello.

* * *

*How Long Patrol Got Beat All To Hell So Very Very Easily*

Alexander the Great, by far the most successful conqueror that ever lived thus far, stood victorious over the cowering surrendering army of these unusual large rabbits his armies had encountered on their march north. The idiotic lagomorphs were obviously unskilled in the art of war, as their first move in the war had been to charge out from their mountain fortress's gates, a big berserk badger at their head. None of them appeared to even be wearing armor, and their weapons were truly ill-equipped for fighting his phalanx infantry. Though they HAD used pikes, they had used them ALL WRONG, sort of running willy-nilly with them spread out throughout the horde. Not very effective-_-_a real army would have massed the pikes at the front. The rest had a hodge-podge of light swords, daggers, and a few axes and other blade varieties, none of them long enough to pass the FREAKIN' FIFTEEN FOOT TO TWENTY ONE FOOT IMPALING IMPLEMENTS OF DOOM his phalanx utilized. The badger had been so easy too: He merely commanded his beasts to side-step him and he ran heedless into the ocean and drowned himself, probably believing the whole time that he was winning.

"You northerners," Alexander chuckled. The hares scowled, "Such barbarians. Anyways, now that you are utterly defeated...Wanna join my global trade nation? You can govern your own shores!" He winked, "And if you direct me to some handsome leverets, I'll let you keep half the taxes too."

The hares stood slack-jawed, not learned enough in Greek culture to even know they were supposed to either blush or snicker.

"What kind o' beast is he?" one hare whispered. The one who received the message shrugged.

"I dunno. I don't bother to learn stuff from outside th' country, wot. The Great Jakes dislikes foreigners, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Wot."

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	17. Dr Kavorchianpaw

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

* * *

Now, compared to the real "medicine" of the dark ages, Redwall's a modern free health clinic in the most advanced nation in the world, which is... probably not the U.S., actually.

Most of the Abbeybeasts' healthcare consists of decoctions of various beneficial herbs and little poultice mats of equally good herbs for open wounding. Though surgery is never mentioned or described, I assume they have it well enough to not multi-task the surgeries with the shaves. No surgeon-barbers is a good healthcare standard to have if you don't know what gunpowder or electricity is.

I'll be frank, ninety percent of the healing herbs mentioned in the series actually do what Jacques's vague description of their effect describes. Dock leaves, or _Rumex Crispi_s as sciencey people would call it, really is what herbalists refer to as a strong "astringent and detergent". This is a fancy way of saying what you already know from reading at least two Redwall books: It's good for skin afflictions of any kind, bee stings, abrasions, rashes, etc. It was once even used for syphilis symptoms after the Greeks f***ed the Syphilum plant out of existence. Thank you Greeks for your great contribution to medicine.

Another example is the herb Wormwood, or _Artemisia Absinthium_. Any Americans reading this would know it as Lamb's Quarter. It's an amazing plant able to treat the more severe pains and aches that some weaker herbs can't touch (it's narcotic, though. Don't eat it raw!). It is also one of the herbs Sela the healer used to treat Cluny after he broke about nine bones and got stuck full of bits of wood after Constance chucked him and an unassuming weasel off the wall.

Those would be the good examples. Bravo, Jacques, you portrayed something true to reality! But of course something else would come up, something with the potential to hilariously poison half the inhabitants of Redwall.

They keep using Nightshade the wrong way. Er, I meant the plant, not the vixen with the bad luck to be fated to serve some wad of anger management issues of a ferret.

Now, when nightshade is used correctly, it is diluted, finely measured, and added to another mixture of at least four other healing herbs. The reason it has to be so closely watched is the fact that if a human child eats so much as ONE RAW LEAF, they with die horribly in about an hour or two. Adults can get away with three or four leaves, with the same life expectancy. It's more toxic than rat poison (which is something everyone in the world should stop using due to the evilness of it... seriously, just look up its other uses and cringe as you imagine how dying from that must feel). Yet the Redwallers and to an even greater degree vixen healers use it like it's harmless candy, only mixing it with one or two other plants or not diluting it near enough for it to not send any patient on it into a near-death poisoned stupor.

Perhaps this is why Redwallers keep having trippy dreams about a long-dead hero talking to them in a void, while adder's tongues turn into swords behind him and poetry floats through the air. They couldn't even achieve that at Woodstock.

* * *

*Prophetic Visions*

Grissoul the Seer was rocking back and forth sitting behind an odd contrivance made of blown glass. Sawney Rath had been told it was full of magic herbs and strange potions that would aid in the soothsayer's visions becoming clearer. Several Juskabeasts stared in a mildly disturbed manner as the fox seer began.

"I see... the Taggerung. There be a flower... on his paw!" the seer took a break to suck on the thin glass outlet of the suspicious glass object filled with burning herbs and a small amount of water, "Phoooo-_-_Oh, 'tis very fine magic, very fine magic indeed. Er... I see... a hawk and a dove... they are making a bell sound... See the ant run, running over the bones, heeheeheehee!"

"Did nobeast check t' see what's in that...thing?" Sawney turned to Eefera the weasel. The tattooed mustelid shrugged, still watching the stoned vixen delivering her omens.

* * *

Now, with that lovely information in mind, consider the implication that no healer, goodbeast at least, seems to have heard of maximum dosage before. Especially with hares, if your patient is unruly (or a vermin, that appears to automatically count as unruly) you are allowed to shut them up with another helping of toxicplant stew, force-fed down their gagging throats. This actually happened in Long Patrol in the most heinous fashion possible with the Painted Ones' chieftain. Observe the malpractice at hand, for this is HOW IT ACTUALLY HAPPENED (with a revision of wording only):

* * *

*The Main Hero Randomly Tortures a Prisoner*

"Okie-dokie! We had a battle, so now it's jolly medicine time!" the self-described sweet pretty haremaid Pasque Valerian chirped happily, getting her medicinal gear out of her pack. Two possible patients lay before her: One had possible multiple broken bones and at least one major hemorrhage, the other had a relatively minor cut.

She picked the one that wasn't a rat.

"Ooh, dear, future love interest, I can't believe those scummy tree rats maimed you so!" she shrieked in a hysterical way that made any female's rights activists nearby cringe. When she was done bandaging Tammo's MINOR SCRAPE with herbs and linens she made a grossed-out face and reluctantly decided she'd better keep their helpless captive alive for a bit.

"Oh Godddess..." Shavvakamala, whose name may as well have been "Ooga-Booga" (reread section on British Imperialism), groaned, holding up surprisingly well despite the extreme pain he had to be in. Pasque's voice reeked of overt hatred for her terrified patient as she treated him.

"Waaah, why do I have to be the one to touch the nasty rat? Eeeew!"

"Ouch, b*tchrabbit! That freakin' 'urtsa! At leasta watcha whatcha doin'!"

"I don't freaking care if it hurts-_-_I'm a hare and you're a rat. That means we can do whatever we want with you, wot wot!" the haremaid grinned evilly, "If I'd have been the one to bally well fight you you'd be much worse off! Hold still!"

She proceeded to dump a totally unmeasured and mysterious combination of possibly toxic plant goop in the poor rat's mouth. Gagging at the vile mess, Shavvakamala was dismayed to find that his wrist was broken and that he couldn't reach the War Crimes Commission's contact information he kept in the back of his loincloth.

"Heehee! Let me _help_!", Tammo, the central hero of the damn story and exalted for his kindness and bravery, then proceeded to discreetly YANK ON THE TREE RAT'S BANDAGES ON HIS FREAKING BROKEN LIMBS, MAKING THE RAT MOAN IN AGONY AND MAKING PASQUE THINK HE NEEDS ANOTHER DOSE OF POSSIBLY POISONOUS PLANT SLUDGE.

"I just love bein' a bally goodbeast!" Tammo winked into the camera, "You can bloody get away with whatever y' bleedin' want, wot wot wot wot wot wot wot!"

"Even medical malpractice on an unarmed bound hostage!" Pasque agreed with a smile.

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	18. Our Peculiar Institution

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

* * *

Answer quickly and answer well, youngbeasts! What's some thing that can be done to a beast in the Redwallverse which trumps being robbed, invaded, conquered, maimed, or even slain? Here's a hint: Humans used to and are still doing it.

Slavery. It's slavery. Above all the number one act cited by racist goodbeasts to excuse their retaliations against vermin groups which did this thing to them or to some random other creatures. It's hard to find anybeast, in real life or in the annals of Redwall, that is okay with slavery. You'd have to go to either the backwoods of Kentucky in that secret location where those odd fellows in the white dunce caps gather to have a strangely-shaped bonfire, or any bad neighborhood in the southwestern U.S., Laos, or Bangladesh (I'm completely serious.).

But the goodbeasts of Redwall and Mossflower don't agree with enslaving creatures, do they? Of course not.

Right..?

You probably know that I'm about to say "WRONG!". You're right.

But it's not that simple as the "They actually don't mind it" kind of wrong. It's way more complicated than that. There seems to be an unwritten set of rules regarding slavery etiquette among the goodbeast clade.

The first thing to keep in mind is the system is, SURPRISE!, very racist. Rule number one: Vermin, be they rat, weasel, stoat, ferret, fox, marten, cat, wolverine or any other creature the goodbeasts believe is brought into the world via the Paw of Satan, cannot ever have a slave. Even for any of the reasons and excuses that I'm about to delve into.

* * *

*Excuse For Goodbeast Slavers Number One: Because They're Vermin And They Did (Or Tried To) Me Wrong*

The book: Salamandastron. The quest: Icetor flowers, a non-existent magical plant that can somehow grow in glacial mountains and cure what looks like Meningitis. But they call it Ditchdry fever, because they don't know Latin but they sure as heck know some Twowords Jammedtogether language.

Thrugg the otter swaggered up the path north, a baby dormouse with the appropriately dumb name, I kid you not, DUMBLE sitting in his food pack with his tiny butt crushing the foodstuffs. Why, what a tolerant and patient otter, not scolding the naughty Dibbun for this! Surely he'd be understanding if a desperate band of homeless creatures explicitly stated to not be robbers but BEGGARS showed up right about-_-_

"Eee! Foxes be'ind us!" Dumble squeaked, sounding as dumb as his name.

Sure enough, four foxes explicitly stated to not be robbers but BEGGARS had sown up on cue. Their weapons are described as heavily sh*tty, either dull rusty swords or...uh, STICKS. The otter, being a typical Redwaller, gets out his sling just in c-_-_hmm, that doesn't sound all that much like a peaceful beast at all. Wonder what happens next?

"What's up dogs?" the otter said. The foxes were all looking at the otter's pack desperately.

"Hello, good fella, nice day to yer," the first fox greeted with incredible wheedling civility, "'Ave ye got any food in that pack?"

"Nope! Just th' carcasses of any stupid homeless foxes that ever asked me for food!" the otter grinned glibly.

"Ooooooh, Oh no he DI'N'T!" one fox guffawed. The other, which was less than amused by the unwarranted threat, drew his crappy sword to remind the otter that metal weapons generally beat one made of leather or wool, even when reduced to a sh*tty state.

"Oh, yeah, _reeeeeeal_ funny. Are yew as tough as yew are racist?"

"Sure am! Wanna die?!" the otter threatened in an oddly happy voice. The first fox made a long drawn out hiss and bit his lip. This was the sort of thing he's read about in gory horror tales. He knew you DO NOT mess with the otter that seems strangely overjoyed to see you while carrying a bitty little weapon that doesn't seem all that dangerous.

"Er, now wait a minute. We're not 'ere t' fight yew. We kinda just wanted a little donation. Ain't yew from th' Abbey where they do that kinda thing?"

"Ain't no Abbey in th' Woodlands, children!" the otter bellowed in a fiendish voice, as if summoning the ancient spirit of Lutras, who feeds on the infants of caiman and watervoles, "Go back to whatever slum y' came out of an' starve t' death why don't ya!"

The fourth fox, who shall forever remain nameless even though the others all got assigned names, drew his sword and decided to get serious with the belligerent otter. His namelessness has yet to be explained, but most of his peers suspect it was for the Witness Protection Program from when he reported the ensuing horror to the non-racist raccoon police.

"Okay, mate. Just fer that we're gonna beat yer ass!"

Suddenly the otter remembered that close combat against multiple opponents while armed only with a pathetic little sling is very very very dumb. He ran off into the trees, earning a great big "What th' f***?!" from the foxes before they followed him in an angry mob.

"Grr, ottery bastard. Let's stomp 'im in th' hazelnuts."

"Yah, but ain't this a Redwall novel? We could get horribly maimed or killed even though we're overwhelmingly more than a match for that otter."

"It's okay! The Great Jakes is busy god-moding the plot of Samkin's journey to get that sword back agin."

"Hey, dudes, now that we're gonna fight this otter, can we eat that dormouse he's got with 'im?"

"Yeah, it's not like it's cannibalism or anything. We're freaking foxes and that's a chipmunk."

"Oh, I think I see 'im! GET TH' BASTARD!"

They all leaped upon a devious trap set by the uncharitable lutrine, and Thrugg snuck up behind them and beat them happily about the head. He stole their weapons and quite possibly their only means of self-defense and tossed them in the woods, then decided that the best way to wake them up again was to BEGIN WHIPPING THEM WITH A SWITCH AND MAKING THEM CARRY HIS LUGGAGE FOR MILES.

"Git movin', boy!" the otter smirked with delight as he drove the traumatized and _literally weeping_ foxes across the ford in River Moss. You know, the one in the previous book that the main heroes almost died in. From pike. Which are biting the foxes the whole time.

"Okie-dokie! You've payed for yore passage with ten miles of service an' two gallons of misery for me own entertainment!" the otter grinned, "Yer free t' go! Oh, and don't bother lookin' for yore weapons. I lost 'em for ya!"

Cussing and still in tears, the foxes took off for the nearest payphone to call the police on their abductor.

* * *

Now, for rule two. No creature may own a goodbeast, unless it's another goodbeast. A fine example would be the Highbeast Tribe: Amballa's pygmy shrews.

* * *

*Awkward, Isn't It?*

Martin the Warrior rallied his troops to him, ready to wipe Badrang's evil name from the face of the earth. Then a pygmy shrew bumped into him and Pallum.

"Yaaa! Let'skill badstoat forenslave Martinmouse!" the shrew cried lustily. Pallum looked at him funny.

"But... don't you guys keep slaves all the time? You even enslaved _us_ just a few sections ago!"

"Er, wejust gonnago ignorethat. Webe goodbeasts."

"Yeah, that makes it waaaay too complicated for third-graders to read," Rose rubbed her head like she was getting a headache, "After all, the Gawtrybe tried to kill us, torture us, and are generally really immature selfish pieces of sh*t. And suddenly they're on our side fighting for us, not jumping around bullying everybeast and trying to get revenge. You know, like you'd expect them to behave from EVERY OTHER SCENE WITH THEM IN IT."

* * *

There you have it. In matters of slavery, when vermin do it to goodbeasts and vermin alike it's always vile. But when goodbeasts do it to vermin they may get a headshaking, or other goodbeasts cheer them on. When goodbeasts (pygmy shrews) do it to other goodbeasts it's viewed only as a shame, and the goodbeasts get a head-shaking. How comforting it must be to know you literally cannot get in trouble for anything if your species is on a certain list. But that's reserved for another installment.

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	19. Hoof Ninjas

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

* * *

There's a lot, and I mean A LOT, of species mentioned in the entire Redwall series. Has anyone ever bothered to count up a complete estimate before me? Probably, but just like me they probably missed at least a few.

There's so so so many: Mice, rats, voles, squirrels, dormice, shrews, moles, hedgehogs, a beaver, a hamster, weasels, stoats, ferrets, otters, bats, badgers, rabbits, hares, foxes, wolves, wildcats, other cats, lizards, a tortoise, snakes, frogs, toads, newts, slow-worms, birds of every sort, dolphins, wolverines, seals, a sea lion, whales, possibly something completely unknown to Americans called a moonrat (if you are skeptical of Razzid the Wearat's heritage like I am-no way can a rat and weasel really beget an offspring... unless one of my earlier installments is true...), and more I have completely forgotten.

But, wait! Didn't you all forget the _others?_ They are mentioned multiple times. Some characters are even named after them. They are featured in poems and described in vivid detail by a certain hare. Some characters even wear clothes made of their haircuts.

They are the deer, the sheep, the wild boar. They are the horses and cows. That one time a dog was mentioned without "stripe", "river", or "soil" stuck in front of it. Even the humans, YES, HUMANS, which are only implied to exist in High Rhulain as the enslavers of the feral cats in ancient history. That is not a typo. It is seriously there.

But of all these, you only see one. Just one, and it's a horse enslaved by Cluny the Scourge. Just one. One of thousands.

So where have all the ungulates gone? Not into Hershey's Ungulates 'n' Cream I hope. You've got to know there're there. Basil Stag freakin' Hare is obsessed with stags. You can't be obsessed with something that does not exist. A ferret uses the insult "pigsears". How do they know when they see ears like a pigs' to insult if they've never seen a pig?

A freakin' badger Lord is NAMED BOAR. How do they know to name the big fighter beast more dangerous than the typical living creature by far something so appropriate as "Boar" if they have never seen a boar?

But these animals would be much, much bigger than any badger. Heck, from the description of a single horse being able to pull a cart packed full of five hundred rats, they've got to be the size of rhinos to the rats' hobbits. Or even bigger.

* * *

*Why They Don't Show Up More Often*

The Rapscallion Army of Damug Warfang marched in huge columns across the plains to the foretold meeting place of destiny and war and stuff. The greatrat looked on proudly at his huge-nomous army, easily the largest ever seen by any woodlander.

"But, milord, didn't that Warlord Ferahgo the Assassin have an army described as outnumbering forty hares by at LEAST one hundred to one?" the rat Henbit spoke up. Damug gazed at him in wonderment.

"Aren't you just some thug? You do math?"

Henbit scratched his chin awkwardly.

"Umm... I DID have a degree in economics, before that squirrel fired me for bringing a dead wren to work for lunch..."

"Oh. Well, that sucks."

Suddenly there was an ominous rumble. On the horizon huge shapes loomed up: Shapes with manes and hooves and tails.

"Holy mother of-_-_" Damug managed to get out before fleeing from the massive equine horde-_-_er, herd like a little sissy. It had become apparent that the horses had become sick of all the pointless fighting between vermin and goodbeast, so they had stepped in to finally equalize the situation. Lady Rose Eyes ran berserkly at one palomino from a nearby gorge, not satisfied unless she was attacking something. The horse, standing a modest three Creggas tall, became quickly annoyed and punted her easily, sending her flying into a rock shaped like an otter's tail...sort of.

* * *

Also, gotta add that at one point two hares in Outcast magically transformed into horses for thirty seconds. It was a typo, but it was damn funny if you didn't realize that right off in your first reading.

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	20. Talking Like a Ferret: Yerr!

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

* * *

If you had to think of something racially offensive that someone could never ever EVER get away with in today's society... well, you'd come up with a lot of things, thankfully. Now think of one that actually happened in the past. You'd still come up with a lot, especially if you're an American, and thankfully people can't get away with these things any more.

No one told the Redwallers this.

Now, in the midst of my rereading Marlfox in order to better lay out some of the OTHER racist things the goodbeasts get away with, I came across a scene which seemed disturbingly familiar with something I knew to happen in the Big Ol' Racism Era (again, especially the U.S. What is WRONG with us?).

It's blackface. Goodbeasts in "vermin" blackface. Says it all...

* * *

*Jim Crow, An Actual Crow*

"Wait, there's no crow in this scene!" Florian snapped. The sparrow, who had been about to prove that the sparrows were indeed still there, hung her head as she shuffled off, literally painted black to look more crow-y.

"H'aaaaandaaah naoooooow, I'm goin' to speeeak in such a waaaaay, that nooooobeeeeast caaan f'reeeeakiiiiiiiing understand meeeeee!" The hare announced dramatically before Roop the poorly-named mole slapped him upside the head, "Geez! Okay, okay! I'll bloody talk normal, wot!"

"As close t' normal as 'e gets..." Runktipp the hedgehog grumbled. Florian pretended he didn't hear as he took a note to fire the erizine later.

Then, after Florian put on a stupid-looking costume and spewed out a completely overdone and unnecessary introduction, the two otters Borrakul and Elachim bounded out on the stage, clad in things everybeast knew made good creatures look highly vermin-y. Specifically, raggedy breechclouts, excessive ear jewelry, and a pair of suspiciously Turkish-looking fake swords.

"Yarr, grrr, yah, gerrim!" the otters let stereotypes pour out of their bigoted mouths like vomit, "Yarr, we're ferrets! We're sooo evil! Cuz everybeast knows this is what all ferrets're like! Ain't we right, mates?"

Cheers ensued, with little Dibbuns egging their stage hero the hare on as he defeated the ferrets with insults...somehow. After the show an Abbey squirrel spoke to Florian and the others.

"Sir, you said that was an 'actual incident'. How in Hellgates did Ballaw survive that if those ferrets were really as villainous as they were portrayed? He was unarmed and they had swords!"

Florian shuffled uncomfortably, so Runktipp explained because he's underrated.

"Well... Florian did embellish the tale just a bit," he glared at the hare, "Ballaw De Quincewold really did encounter those two ferrets, but he was cutting across the ferrets' farmland." The hare snorted, not liking imagining his ancestor as anything other than a kickass, butt-kicking heroism (racism) machine, "When the ferrets came out to challenge him, uh... Ballaw cussed the crap outta them and bullied them back into their house. Of course they weren't pirate-y, it just gets a bigger audience when we show 'em like that."

"Oh." the squirrel blinked, "Well... that makes sense... but you don't get paid more here if you have a bigger audience. That's... that's a little bit dishonest, isn't it..?"

"Nope! Shut your pie-hole now, we need to rehearse our next scene and apply our blackface! You know, so hard to get those nasty vermin features right, wot wot!"

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	21. Tagg, Veil, and a Spiky Idiot

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

* * *

Since I'm not getting any younger and this installment isn't getting any more done by me pondering wistfully in a corner about the Great Jakes's knowledge of psychology and personal development, I shall now tackle the big one. The greatest mystery of the entire Redwall series. But to me, after exhaustive research and multiple professional courses on Psychology and Sociology, the three Great Redallverse Phenomena are no mystery at all.

I am referring of course to three Redwallverse-specific mental diseases and/or psychoses you are probably familiar with but have not named them yet. Well, I went ahead and named them:

"The Taggerung Effect". "Veil's Syndrome". And the less-discussed "Orkwil Prink's Disease".

Do you all remember Orkwil Prink? He was a young hedgehog, a major hero in one of the later volumes. He is described as an orphan taken into Redwall Abbey after his thieving parents abandoned him. He regularly steals items from his fellow Abbeybeasts, but always feels that he is excused from these actions because he was supposedly going to return them.

Does that sound familiar to any of you..?

It certainly does to me. That would be because Orkwil Prink's early life almost exactly mirrors that of another orphan left by a criminal parent to be adopted by the Abbey and gets into the habit of stealing things and never thinks anything's wrong with doing it.

Veil.

Why such a marked difference in fate? And in how they are later treated, and then remembered? Does mere heritage really contribute that much?!

Yes. Yes it does. But it has nothing to do with the fact that Veil is a vermin and Orkwil is a goodbeast, not the genetics anyway. It would be like seeing that the unemployment rate among African-Americans is higher, and then assuming that it's simply because they're black and that's how they are. The real reason this ACTUAL FACT is true is something a reader of this rant has very much heard before here.

Of course it's racism. Black people don't have as much employment in the U.S. because a lot of people will not hire them. Because they are racist and think they would do a job sub-standardly compared to a person of their own ethnicity.

What happened with Veil and Orkwil could easily be used to teach this concept to new students of psychology, it's so glaringly obvious.

Why did Veil turn out evil when he was raised by decent Abbeydwellers? Because they were racist towards him, despite what they themselves might believe. Need some proof?

What is the definition of "racist"? In simple terms, it's treating one unlike or less equally than another based purely on race or ethnic background (or species, in the case of Redwall). Now you tell me if the scene in Outcast where Friar Bunfold is looking for who stole his honeypot is NOT racist:

* * *

*Allegory of Everyday Racism With Cute Mice and Ferrets*

Friar Bunfold was growing increasingly worried. His blue honeypot was missing, and he was starting to worry that somebeast had stolen it. But who among an Abbey full of well-brought up creatures would do such a thing?

"Where is my blue honeypot?" he wondered redundantly to himself. A youngish mousemaid, Bryony, came in, and the Friar became very glad that he had someone to ask for help, "Oh, Bryony! You would have happened to see my blue honeypot anywhere have you?"

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," she responded civilly, "Perhaps you misplaced it."

A hedgehog female named Myrtle came in. Friar Bunfold once again makes it clear that he would never suspect her.

Then Veil the ferret wanders in, probably innocently looking for his adoptive mother.

A scowl immediately adorns the face of the once-never suspecting mouse friar.

"Grr! C'mere you scummy liddle n**-_-_I mean, polecat!" he grred, GRABBING THE FELLOW ABBEYDWELLER BY THE EAR AND DRAGGING HIM OVER FORCIBLY AND SHAKING HIM, "I always knew it was you! Because you're the only vermin here-_-_it MUST be you!"

* * *

There you have it.

Why did Veil turn out bad-tempered and evil and paranoid? Because he was regularly tormented and persecuted. It doesn't excuse his evil deeds later perpetrated, but it does explain why he did them even though the Abbeybeasts themselves ACKNOWLEDGE THAT HE WAS A NICE WELL-BEHAVED DIBBUN. Not like the horrid brats that keep getting the hero's treatment whenever they unknowingly massacre dozens as a fun game.

Maybe that's where the Gawtybe came from...

Er... Never mind. Get to that later.

Now look at Orkwil. The hedgehog did the EXACT SAME THINGS AS VEIL. He stole, and frequently. He had all the same abandonment issues (or should have. People with these issues don't always talk about them.), their parents were both uncaring thieves who didn't really care what happened to their offspring. So why didn't Orkwil snap?

Because he never had anything to snap about. The Redwallers practically coddled the little spiky bastard, treating his "borrowing" habit as an endearing trait rather than a bad deed that calls for discipline. Thus, Orkwil felt more supported, not chastised and ridiculed all the time. Nothing drove him to escalate his already long list of petty crimes into major ones for the sake of revenge like Veil did. Because Orkwil had nothing to avenge.

But then how did Tagg/Deyna turn out so good?

The same reason!

Racism played no part in Tagg's upbringing. It is clearly shown that Sawney Rath loved the little otter like he'd never loved another creature. He is overheard discussing how he's going to get all these skilled beasts to tutor him in all aspects of being a Taggerung or warrior. He makes sure he gets all the best food and shelter. The Juskarath tribe adores him. He is to be their hero, their champion.

The vermin expected the otter to turn out wonderful. They encouraged him to be wonderful. Sawney Rath raised him wonderfully. Nobeast looked down on him because he was an otter except Antigra, who was generally scorned by all the Juska whose voices mattered to the young otter. Tagg was taught his values primarily through positive reinforcement, which is THE BEST METHOD OF TEACHING AND FOSTERS SELF-WORTH AND FREE-THINKING. The Juskarath treated Tagg in a way that was truly WONDERFUL.

Small wonder that he turned out... WONDERFUL.

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	22. The Most Dangerous Game

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

* * *

Rereading Marlfox and Taggerung has brought me enlightenment to an exciting new sport that the Redwallers and woodlanders seem to revel in playing all across Mossflower. Sollertree the hedgehog and Fwirl the squirrelmaid are professional athletes when it comes to this. What is this sport you ask?

It's kind of like bungee jumping. But with your brain.

They take part in the sport of extreme conclusion-jumping.

Guess what, kids? It has to do with MORE RACISM! Bet you're getting tired of the racism, eh? Well, too f***in' bad-_-_it's literally INESCAPABLE! BWAHAHAHAHAHAH!

First Fwirl because I like her more than Sollertree the slave-keeping hedgehog giant (seriously, why is he keeping a frog like a pet? Frogs are sentient and sapient in the Redwallverse. Also, he keeps feeding Croikle grapes, which should have killed the little froggy a long time ago.). When Fwirl is telling the sappy story of her life to her future beloved (why does THIS keep happening?) she mentions how she was orphaned as a child. See if you can spot where she LEAPS COMPLETELY OVER THE CHASM OF ASSUMPTION:

* * *

*Because It Just Was*

"So, uh, how'd you get all orphan-y..?" Broggle asked stupidly and awkwardly, hoping his facefur would mostly hide his raging teenage ache (seriously, everybeast has smooth faces... even the teenagers.). Fwirl completely ignored how tearful that comment should have made her and burst into glib exposition.

"Oh, you know. Family lived out in the woods like thousands of others, peacefully or whatever," she waved a paw dismissively, "I was very little and didn't have the best of judgement, you know how four-seasoners are. We were doing something squirrely when my mom shoves me into this hollow log and tells me to be quiet. So, yeah, I couldn't see anything. So then I heard my family all getting shanked and stabbed and whatnot, y'know, dying screams, all that. Then I heard the foxes laughing-_-_"

"Wait, wait a minute, foxes?" Broggle interrupted her. "How did you know they were foxes? You just said you couldn't see what was going on!"

"Well, I think I know the sound of foxes laughing apart from any other creatures laughing!" Fwirl claimed, "I know a 'heheheh' from a 'hahahah' and a 'harhar' from a 'heehee'!"

"But doesn't all laughing sound...pretty much the same?"

"Nope! Laughing sounds drastically different across the races! Just like in real life!" Fwirl winked at the camera as a warning disclaimer popped up:

"Brian Jacques is not responsible for any injuries, obstruction of justice charges or deaths resulting from filling out police reports on suspects based on the fact that they had an 'Asian laugh'."

* * *

Jesus wept, how in Hellgates can you tell a fox laughing from, say, a weasel laughing? They're both "vermin". Couldn't she have just claimed "vermin" killed her family like so many otherbeasts do? But even then that's a stretch. It could have easily been Gawtrybe squirrels laughing, or otters laughing, or hares laughing, or freakin' mice laughing.

Now to the giant pincushion. His is YET ANOTHER "MY FAMILY ALL GOT KILLED BY VERMIN" STORY, but his has a twist that catches him in the act of SEVERE CONCLUSION-JUMPING:

* * *

*Invisible Weasel Tracks*

"So, uh, how did you get all hermit-y?" Dannflor asked in a stupid way. Not the best way to begin a conversation.

"Oh, the usual. Family all killed by villainous vermin," the big doofus replied as he shoved a grape in Croikle's protesting mouth, "Couldn't catch 'em though. Th' rainstorm had washed out all of the tracks b'fore I came home, so-_-_"

"Wait, wait, how did you know it was vermin then?" Song asked, looking perplexed. Sollertree grunted and shrugged.

"Uhhh... I dunno, I just figured it was vermin. Because it's always vermin." He winked cheerily at the camera as a warning disclaimer flashed by:

"Do not attempt to use this argument when reporting crimes to the police. Brian Jacques is not responsible for any injuries, obstruction of justice cases, or deaths that may ensue."

* * *

From all that conclusion-jumping they did they should have broken legs by now.

* * *

Yep. I'm still alive. More of these will follow, and suggestions are appreciated since I am running low on ideas myself. The turnout will be a bit slower, though, as I will be in college and will already have a LOT of writing to do.


	23. Evil Bastard of the Year Awards

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates.

* * *

It must be just sweet to be a goodbeast in the later novels.

Much like college fratboys, when anthropomorphic squirrels, hedgehogs and mice get together and are never scolded for anything wrong they do, and are instead praised for "defeating the foebeast" or "givin' those scummers what for", they will both attempt, and succeed, at getting away with anything. ANYTHING.

Anything short of murdering another of the spoiled fratboys.

In any novel after Pearls of Lutra, goodbeasts get away with anything in Redwall Abbey and get away with almost as much outside. Odd, considering how sometimes non-Abbeydwellers often threaten enemies that they are about to "take it outside" so they don't violate the Abbey's creed and charter.

The nominees this installment for winning the Biggest Redwall Douches That Were Never Punished Despite Heinous Crimes are...

Yoofus Lightpaw! The dormouse that loves to burglarize the Abbey a la Chickenhound style and goes completely unpunished!

That Unnamed Grumpy Watervole! He even managed to kill an ABBEY SISTER and didn't even get tracked down by the Abbeybeasts! A freakin' random weasel had to do it!

That utterly despicable Gray One! Got his tribe thirsty for the blood of the main heroes because of a swindle he himself committed!

Triggut Frap! Owned slaves! Tortured beasts! Not even a kick in the teeth!

Aggril (the Poisoner)! Poisoned the main characters after coaxing them into a state of trust, then planning to murder them! Except Boldred showed up and whisked the heroes away, but Aggril never got punished!

Blodd Apis, Evil Master of the Bees Who Likes To Torture Random Travelers! Except that she messed up and got herself killed, but the heroes all were sorry anyway for some reason!

And...Pakatugg! The squirrel which bullied the main character of Mariel of Redwall, even attempting to cripple her and leave her for dead, and magically became a hero right before he died! Also, he was randomly a hedgehog for two sentences...

Due to having been killed to death and getting poetic justice done unto them, Skan, Fenno, Druwp, and Tugga Bruster have been disqualified from the running. You know the nominees, and you probably don't love 'em! They lie, they cheat, they steal, they murder, and they sell out their friends. Have you noticed that the only bad "goodbeasts" are squirrels, hedgehogs, shrews or voles? More of that goodbeast-on-goodbeast racism that we all love!

And a bunch of the badgers are borderline bad, with just a smidgeon of demanding dictator.

Welllll... I would go ahead and count both Folgrim, the otter that likes to murder minorities and eat their flesh by choice but doesn't have to because of a traumatic event that may not have even happened and had nothing to do with said minorities, and that freakin' Zaran the Black. I know that one is _supposed_ to be a good guy in Doomwyte, but come on! Kill your enemy (who isn't even really an enemy, more of an aloof, slightly crazy predator) by collapsing a cavern and letting them suffocate just because it's convenient? Why you gotta be all torturey? Matthias took out an adder just as dangerous, gigantic, and evil with a sword in close quarters. Just one swing, no more ouch. Also no more snake named after the Demon of Lust.

Freud, anyone?

And don't forget the one evil mouse! Nimbalo's father, who despite child abusing his son into being a bloodthirsty scamp is avenged righteously anyways. If a rat kills you, no matter how much of an asshat you were before, you must get justice. 'Cuz rats are worse than abusive fathers. Yep. More racism.

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	24. Mus Sanctos Domine

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates

* * *

People wonder all the freakin' time about the religion of the Abbey of Redwall. I know-_-_I've seen them do it. It's a running joke. It is about as common a question as the eternal:

"Hey... Are these _all_ about the same group of mice and stuff eating cake and genociding rats?"

Well, I, er... I get that one a LOT from non-readers after I've introduced the saga.

Back to the show:

I myself don't wonder quite so much about the religious beliefs of the Brothers and Sisters. That's because, through careful screening of several of the older books, I have pieced together a few of their main ideals. Here are the spiritual beliefs of the great Redwall. Tell me if you think any of them are... a little paradoxical (I WILL be hearing from many of you).

When peaceful beasts die, they go to a land of rest and peace eternal known as the Dark Forest. While this title could easily be the site of the main villains' lairs in any other furry-animal-fantasy, in the Redwallverse a darkened forest is... kind of everywhere. So it's not that scary.

However, bloodthirsty warriors can somehow get into Dark Forest. Even though it is a place of peace. Hmm. But only if they're hares, squirrels, otters, or especially badgers.

All the "saints" are mice or badgers. No other species has had their spirit so worshiped.

Yes. Martin the Warrior is WORSHIPED. That is what it is called when all the inhabitants of a place have your image enshrined in their most important hall, and they regularly seek out help in times of trouble by praying and/or wanting to receive visions from you. If you were Martin, you would agree that you were being WORSHIPED.

Hellgates! Hellgates is where all the evil beasts go when they die. It is guarded by a "satan"-like form known as Vulpuz, which some creatures claim is the ancestor of all foxes, but somehow not wolves even though they are stated to be related. Vulpuz the badass demon fox (Naruto, much?) guards the evil souls of beasts and makes sure they never leave.

And it's odd that the big guy's considered a bad thing, seeing as Redwallers are utterly terrified of "bad spirits" coming to get them. Vulpuz ought to be being thanked for his services. He(she?) seems to have gotten the Hades Treatment. Hades was the only Greek god who WASN'T a bastard. And yet he gets slapped with devilish imagery. Go figure.

Yes, Redwallers believe in ghosts. Not as the neutral to "just checking in on my descendant" kind, but the fubar medieval version of a "ghost", which is not what the word "ghost" means anymore. No, they believe in GHOULS, which are floaty and can go through solid objects like "ghosts", but also are reanimated corpses coming to "get" you. Like magic-using zombies. I'm sure the dead relatives of thes idiotic mice are very pleased by what the grandkids think of them.

Redwallers are very clear what "get" means. If you're caught by a mouse-looking glowing thing, consider yourself eaten (Bleach, much?). Somehow. Ah, it's medieval times, it's not supposed to make sense!

UNLESS it is the spirit of Martin the Archangel-_-_I mean, Warrior, that has come to honorably possess your body and use you like a flesh puppet to stab a vermin in the back!

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	25. If You Were Gay

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates

* * *

Quick, name a character from the Redwallverse who was most certainly gay.

Not Rakkety Tam and Doogy Plum! That kilt-putting-on-while-we-were-in-jail-naked thing was probably just a mistake or two lonely squirrels' desperation. Now really think: Which extremely well-known and well-liked character from the Redwall series is definitely gay?

Don't think later than Long Patrol. Heck, think back to the good ol' original-_-_Redwall (What an original name!).

Now, I don't mean to offend any readers who may themselves be gay (or straight, or both, or... something else), but when I say "they're definately gay", I mean the AUTHOR definitely intended for them to be gay. And not just gay. FRUITY. FLAMING HOT FIRE. DON'T TOUCH THAT YOU'LL GET BURNED AND SMELL LIKE APPLE CRISP.

Whooooa... that's enough of that.

The point is, how much do you really think people (*coughcough* who're imperialist dogs *cough*) born before 1970 know about what gay people are actually like? Exactly. The character I want you to guess is not really a nice, accurate gay character. He's a big ol' caricature just like almost every other character in the series (with a few notable exceptions: Veil, Tagg, Tansy, etc. You can name a lot but it's a mere drop in an ocean of 10,000 names).

Go on! Guess the traits! Are "flamboyant", "affected voice", "obsessed with housekeeping/design" and "can never seem to find a mate" on your list? Good, because these all apply to this character, and so much more...

* * *

*Out With It, You Buffoon*

"It's me, ol' top!" It was BASIL STAG HARE! "Care for a jolly ol' musical numbah t' explain the ol' bally evidence?"

"Why, certainly, Basil,"Matthias said through gritted teeth, clearly hating his existence at the moment.

Basil began a song and dance routine, kicking high like a Las Vegas showhare:

"Ooooooooh_-_-the first time that mouse met me, he did hear an "affected quaver!

"He thought perhaps that I was drunk on ale!

"But if those Abbey mice had taught him sex'ul education-_-_

"He would have known for sure what he had seen!

"I'm Stag Stag Stag Stag-means "bachelor", y'know,

"Meaning that I'm not good with th' fillies!

"And completely out of context, I did elect to share

"That me mater always wanted a little she instead of me

"Which I do not seem to mind-perhaps prefer!

"I get jolly chuffed doin' my spring cleaning

"And equally become found of adolescent male mices!

"And theeeeen_-_-my comment about my bestest friends

"Maybe being LUBED was a little suspicioooooous!"

"Yeah, what was with that? 'Some of my best friends are greased pigs'?" Matthias pondered, his innocence slowly being eroded away. Basil snorted.

"Please, you're the one who got a girl pregnant with your bloody brat of a Champion when she was, what, fifteen?" Basil craftily brought up. Matthias hid his face.

"Sh-shut up! There might be that Chris Hansen pine marten lurking about!" he shushed then scowled, "Grr. Scummy vermin."

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	26. The Fires of HORRIBLE HORRIBLE REVENGE!

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates

* * *

If there is one reason to kill that the goodly woodlanders agree is never okay, it's killing for the purpose of vengeance. There's all manner of rhetoric flying about all through nearly all of the books of this nature; a squirrel will grumble this, a mouse say that, all in strong disagreement on killing for a wrong done after the fact for a selfish reason.

Or do they?

Well, answer me this, faithful readers: What do you call what Urthstripe the Strong did to Farran the Poisoner in Salamandastron? Is it not HEINOUS?

By the way, if you haven't read it, IT SO IS. It's a fate you wouldn't wish on your worst enemies' hellspawn mother who devoured your kittens and opened another hole in the ozone layer. It's just... You start wondering how the goodbeast can keep calling themselves by such a label...

* * *

*The Most Horrible Thing Possible Happens. And A Good Guy Did It.*

"Damn." Seawood the hare commented, "This might even trump what that ottery chap Folgrim did to that water rat..."

"Shut up! We're in s'possed to watch for our entertainment!" Moonpaw, an extremely unimportant hare said.

Across the room, a black fox with very poor fighting skills cringed in terror.  
Vulpuz! He thought to himself, All I did was follow orders, kill that hare that surprised me at the crater top, then poisoned the food supply under Ferahgo's orders...Oh, yeah, and be a fox...

"GRR," Urthstripe charged him, armed with only a wet strip of knotted torture linen.

"Wait, what in Hellgates?" the bubbly young Pennybright looked away in horror.

"GRR," Urthstripe repeated, beating Farran just for the enjoyment of it. Then he proceeded to steal Farran's poison sacks and, grinning like a lunatic, SHOVE THEM DOWN THE FOX'S THROAT.

Pennybright fainted.

The next morning, Pennybright says this rather cheerfully.

"Ooh! Can't wait to see what happens when the jolly vermin break through!"

* * *

Holy s***. Pardon my French, but WHAAAA..?

How is that the action of a noble creature? The things that fox did aren't half as destructive as the actions of, say, almost all the badgers. Especially that Cregga. I can't find it in my heart to tolerate her.

But think, when vermin (say... Swartt Sixclaw! Or Geltor the Marlfox!) try to get revenge in just as, or oddly LESS, horrible ways, what are they told?

"Noooo! That's baaaaad!"

Tell that to your badger friends. That is, if you feel brave enough to confront the Badger Lord with anything other than positive reports and fawning praise.

Wait...

...Are the badgers totalitarian dictators?

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	27. The Latest Things In Prejudging Fashion

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates

* * *

Guess what! TBLU is not dead! It liiiiiiiiiives!

And thunder rolled, and lightening struck, and things... got rather clichéd very quickly, so I'll stop that nonsense.

And get right into the serious nonsensing. Which means I have to pick on the so-called morality of woodlanders and other goodbeasts yet again.

Salamandastron. Quite literally my favorite tale of all the older ones, and the very reason I set my other fanfiction, Tales of Iffrit, about sixty seasons directly following it. Among all the books I have read, it ranks second or third, under Taggerung and probably Legend of Luke as well. There is a very special reason that I prefer this to, say, Mossflower or Bellmaker. It's very simple, and a theme that runs so very deeply in this and pretty much all my other Redwallverse-related thingies.

Racism. How many of you knew that was coming (answer: All of you)?

Sure, there's racist beasts. But that's not what I'm getting at. I am paying particularly close attention to who_ isn't _racist. At least at first. And, contrary to what the woodlanders and Salamandastron natives feel about themselves, there's more than one way to wrongly judge...

Did anyone find it... disturbing, or strange, how much emphasis the judgement of Mara badgermaiden and Pikkle Ffolger upon Klitch and Goffa had to do with appearance? I am not talking about specie; Pikkle and Mara were both surprisingly tolerant of the "vermin" who presented themselves civily.

I'm talking about how much their trusting the ferret and weasel, and the degree to which they favored each, had to do with_ their freaking clothes_.

Observe:

* * *

*They Totally Judged Those Guys Based On Their Clothes*

* * *

"Hello there!" the bright blue-eyed weasel in the snappy and stylish yellow tunic said as he came over the sand dune and saw the two protagonists. Looking up, the badgermaid Mara and the young hare Pikkle Ffolger saw him sliding down together with a ferret in less impressive and more piecemeal garb.

"I say, good to bally meetcha, ol' chap!" Pikkle greeted the weasel with incredible enthusiasm. The ferret, Goffa, kept his mouth shut and shuffled, not being a freaking conniving liar and only a paid pawbeast.

"Hi," Mara stared dreamily into Klitch's eyes, fantasizing about having sweet sweet miscegenation with the supposed inferior species. Then she looked over at the ferret.

"Ew! That ferret is obviously shifty-looking," the narrator the Great Jakes said unashamedly, "See? Look! His clothes don't fit perfectly and aren't in season! Logically, those dressed poorly must be less trustworthy!"

"Wow..." Mara squinted oddly up at the voice in the sky, creeped out by the freaking messed-up logic it would take to actually believe that. Goffa suppressed a sob as he flipped through the latest issue of Mossflower Fashion.

"Baaaaaah..." he moped, "All I ever wanted was to have a belt and shirt that match..."

"Too bad! You're just some minor vermin character that gets killed instead of the Big Bad, so your feelings don't matter!" Klitch grinned cheerfully. Mara and Pikkle, obliviously still paying attention to the clothing thing, completely ignored the ominous, douchebaggery-announcing statement and skipped merrily on with their two new "friends".

Mara and Pikkle didn't judge the two based on their species until after it was revealed that they were working for an army led by an utter bastard (which is normal). What's weird is that they seem to like Klitch more and largely ignore Goffa simply because one is dressed better than the other. Apparently in the Redwallverse, having hand-me-downs is a sign of a scuzzball.

* * *

Geez, what keeps them from utterly despising some of the other woodlanders? Arguably, the goodbeasts tend to have much poorer quality clothing than the vermin leaders.

What in Hellgates is that all about then? I thought one of the core messages of Redwall is that the industrious poor know better than the snooty richbeasts.

THEN Mara's adoptive daddy gets all racist... which brings us full circle on this fubar carousel of unwarranted judgement.

And damn it all if Urthstripe wasn't right all along! _Every freaking time! _

Here, have a cookie. Time to go fume in the corner about race relations in fantasy novels and how they effect today's youth...

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


	28. Where Have All the Dibbuns Gone?

Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates

* * *

My distinguished readers, we take you now again to the sex life of the average Abbey Sister or Brother...

Well, not quite. I'm not getting into the sexual innuendo thing with naked squirrels and swords pleasing pretty haremaids again. But what I have to say this time has a lot to do with the hanky-panky of anthropomorphized mice and hedgehogs.

Babies. Or Dibbuns, if you're in an Abbey at the moment.

Think about this: What is it like at the Abbey of Redwall?

There's peace, no killing off of beasts randomly (except for the occasional war or accident.)

They have shockingly good medicinal capabilities.

They are completely self-sufficient, producing enough food to have massive excesses come every feast.

They seem to worship children (or at least treat them like they're perfect little angels *retch*).

So now.

What's keeping their population at a steady much-less-than-the-vermin-army-has level? The vermin creatures are often shown scrounging for food just to make it through a day, having shoddy medicine, constantly getting slaughtered by the hundreds, not giving less than a crap about starting families, treating their kids like less than a crap when they do, and... the list goes on.

So why are there always more of them than the woodlanders or Abbeybeasts?

Let's assume even that the mice and squirrels and rabbits and ferrets and rats and whatnot have only the reproductive capacity of a human (Ha. "only". Me, you kill me.) and not the actual real life organisms they represent. Let's say that one pair of dearly beloved Abbey mice can have upwards of ten babies in their lifetime, and most survive given herbal medicine and general well-being know-how. Let's assume that Redwall starts with around one hundred mousey monks and woodlander converts.

In fifty seasons, they ought to have at least, the very freakin' least, risen their number to over six hundred. That's assuming they and their kids and their grandkids, possibly some great-grandkids, only had a measly three Dibbuns per pair. And that's counting a war that wipes out about a third of them. And in another ten seasons, there ought to be at least, again the very freakin' least, _over two thousand Redwallers._

So how is it that in Long Patrol, after no great war or anything which killed large numbers of creatures off, that the Redwallers only manage to scrounge up barely three hundred fighters? That's including help from woodlanders. In fact, it's mostly help from woodlanders. That's pathetic!

How are they doing this, you and I may ask?

I have no freakin' clue. The answer cannot be found.

At least Redwallverse creatures breed more like humans and less like what they're based on. Or my head would explode from the mathematical impossibility.

It's things like that that make Jube look like an only child...

* * *

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.


End file.
